Some Sort of Misunderstanding
by Agent047
Summary: Norrington and his crew find shelter in an abandoned village following a battle that has left them shipless. Jack arrives and is willing to assist them on one condition: Jack needs help rescuing Gibbs from the EITC.
1. Victory's Wake

The men climbed wearily out of the longboats. Those that couldn't walk on their own were carried by their comrades. The attack had been entirely unexpected and unprovoked, and though the battle had ended in a victory, each man's face bore the weight of defeat.

Commodore James Norrington stepped onto the shore and took a moment to survey the situation. All things considered, their situation could be much worse. This beach was plentiful with vegetation, and even showed signs of civilization. It was likely that there was a town nearby where he and his men could find shelter and supplies, and perhaps even barter a ship, or at least passage.

Lieutenant Gillette came up next to him. "Sir, you're bleeding." His voice held mild concern.

Norrington offered him a humorless smile. "So are you," he replied, glancing at a slash wound on the lieutenant's arm.

"It's nothing. Have you seen Groves? He's limping."

"And there are others much worse off than we are."

"You're all right, then?"

"Yes." That was, if suffering the effects of an enemy's blade having made contact with his ribs, but in no immediate danger of death was to be considered _all right_. He straightened his coat so that it covered the bloodstain. "Concern yourself with finding some manner of shelter."

Gillette nodded and went off to explore a path that seemed to be a promising sign of a nearby town or village. Norrington slowly followed, taking time to offer small words of encouragement to the men who sought it from him. They sat in the shade or on the beach, either staring at nothing in particular or silently tending to the wounded. The path led into a sparsely wooded area, then opened up into what appeared to be a small village. Norrington felt more optimistic than he had all day.

Lieutenant Groves met him on the path. He was, indeed, limping.

"Are you injured?" Norrington asked.

"Something in my ankle was badly wrenched during the fighting." He offered a shrug and an attempt at a smile. "I'll manage."

"Am I correct in assuming there is a village up ahead?"

Groves hesitated. "A village, yes," he said. "People, no. Not that I've seen. Seems to be deserted."

Norrington frowned. That was odd. The path looked as if it had been used recently.

"Come have a look."

Norrington followed his lieutenant to the village's entrance. The homes were little more than huts, with a few being made out of mud and bricks, but there were many of them. And they did appear quite deserted.

Gillette appeared, coming out of one of the huts. "Haven't seen a soul, Commodore. The whole place is empty. See for yourself."

"That won't be necessary," Norrington replied. The pain in his side had been aggravated by the walking, and he didn't feel like making it even worse by exploring a seemingly deserted village. He saw spots of red appearing in the dirt next to him, and felt uncharacteristically squeamish at the sight of his own blood.

"I don't suppose there'd be any harm in using these huts as shelter," Groves suggested.

Norrington swallowed the sick feeling and faced his lieutenant. "No. Not if their occupants truly have vacated this place. Have the men begin bringing the injured."

Groves nodded and turned to go. Norrington looked out over the little village once more, feeling slightly uneasy, as if something were not right here. On the surface there was nothing suspicious about an abandoned village, especially in a moderately remote place such as this. Most likely its former inhabitants had moved on to a larger city. He knew he ought to be grateful for the readily available shelter, but he just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He didn't realize how lightheaded he was feeling until he saw Gillette frowning at him and asking if he was all right. He felt the lieutenant's strong grip on his arm, and wanted to shake him off and say that he was fine, but his mind was suddenly in such a fog that the words just wouldn't form. Another set of hands pressed his other arm as his legs gave out. He was aware of the hard ground against his back, and then only darkness.

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><p><strong>As you can see, this is somewhat of a variation on a familiar themeplot. Call me lazy. I'll try to keep it original, though. Read on, and feel free to leave comments. :)**


	2. Unease Substatiated

When Norrington opened his eyes the first thing he noticed was the unfamiliar surroundings. His coat was missing, and after a moment he realized that it was folded under his head for a cushion. Disoriented, he started to sit up, grimacing against the pain and dizziness that accompanied his efforts.

Groves' face appeared above him. "Don't do that," Groves said, gently pressing his shoulder to make him lie back down. "I've only just got the bleeding stopped and I don't need you to make it start up again."

Norrington put a hand to his side and felt several layers of bandages wrapped around his body, effectively binding the wound. "How long was I out?"

"Not long. How do you feel?"

"Like an idiot," he muttered, irritated with himself for such weakness.

"You are an idiot. Why didn't you say you needed medical attention?"

"Because I knew you would waste daylight fussing over me instead of finding shelter like I asked."

"The men are on their way to set up camp in the village, as you instructed," Groves assured him.

Norrington sighed. "Now will you let me sit up?"

Groves rolled his eyes, but helped Norrington sit up against the wall of a nearby brick hut. "Fortunately the wound is superficial," Groves said. "Fairly deep, though, hence the bleeding, but it'll heal."

Norrington was already regretting his decision to sit upright. He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes, feeling ill.

Gillette knelt next to him and offered a canteen. "Have some water, sir."

Norrington accepted the canteen, grateful for cool drink.

"The rest of the men have found shelter in the village," Gillette informed him. "I'm told they've designated one of the houses for the officers. Perhaps we ought to go there."

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><p>The Lieutenants Gillette and Groves helped Norrington to his feet. The act of standing set his head spinning, threatening to put him on the ground again, and he clung to Gillette's shoulder until the dizziness faded, leaving only a mild throbbing in his temples. Gillette held the commodore's arm to steady him as the three officers made their way to their mud hut.<p>

Inside, the hut was dimly lit and not particularly spacious. A small wooden table sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by four wooden chairs. There were two cots against one wall, and a third up in an overhead loft which was accessible by a wooden ladder. Norrington lowered himself onto the nearest cot and rested his head in his hands. In the short walk through the village, the dull throb had escalated into a pounding headache. He tried not to think about the pain in his side.

It was a moment before he realized how out-of-place the cots seemed compared to the primitive dwelling. He frowned as the thought struck him, and looked up at his lieutenants, both of whom looked back at him in concern.

"Is something wrong, sir?" Gillette asked.

"I don't know," Norrington replied, truthfully. "You've not noticed anything strange?"

The two officers looked at each other.

"Such as?" Groves prompted.

Norrington sighed. "Nothing. It's just an uneasy feeling I've got about this place."

"Perhaps you should lie down," Groves suggested, clearly wondering if the uneasiness could be the result of blood loss and exhaustion.

Norrington shot Groves a look of irritation, but knew he was probably right. He was feeling sick and woozy, and the pain in his side was just slight of agony. He leaned down to remove his boots, and as he did, he caught a glimpse of the insignia branded into the metal frame of the cot. He froze, and stared at it for a minute. "Lieutenant," he said.

In the absence of specificity, both lieutenants responded and crossed the room to see what Norrington was looking at.

"Oh," Groves said, expressing both surprise and understanding.

Gillette sat back on his heels and stared at the brand in confusion. "But what business would the East India Trading Company have here?"

"I don't know," Norrington replied. "It seems out of character that they should take up residence in such primitive lodgings."

Gillette threw an uneasy glance over at Groves, then looked back at Norrington and asked, "What should we do, sir?"

"Nothing. We will carry on as planned, making use of this space as long as necessary, or until its occupants return and we are forced to vacate."

Gillette nodded, though his face said he was still not convinced that it was a good idea to stay in the village.

"You both look exhausted," Norrington said. "Please, get some rest. Gillette, take care of that cut on your arm. We will reassess our situation first thing in the morning and decide then on our next course of action."

The evening was just beginning to fade into night as Norrington lay back on his cot, shamelessly glad for the respite and feeling better once he was lying down. He heard the other officers settling into their own sleeping accommodations. Gillette had volunteered to sleep in the loft for the sake of Groves' hurting ankle, and Groves lay on the cot next to Norrington's, clearly grateful to finally be off his feet.

This day had not contained any points which could be considered highlights of the commodore's career. Quite the opposite, Norrington thought. Falling into an ambush, barely making it out alive with many wounded, and then collapsing in front of his lieutenants as a result of his own injury. He only hoped that the situation here in the village would remain uneventful, and that within the shortest possible amount of time they could be on their way home.

Doing everything in his power to avoid leaning on his injured side, Commodore Norrington finally let himself drift to sleep.

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><p><strong>You get two chapters at once because I didn't want to leave the poor Commodore unconscious. I also thought it'd be good to introduce some of the direction this story will take. Reviews are much appreciated, especially as this is just beginning!<strong>


	3. On the Horizon

The next morning dawned warm, sunny, and much too early. Norrington awoke to rays of sunlight spreading across his face, having found their way into the hut through cracks around the crude front door. He slowly sat up, and was glad when his head remained clear. Stiff muscles and various minor injuries made it a bit of a chore to stand up, with the pain from the slash wound on his ribs leading the chorus of soreness. Glancing around, Norrington saw that his lieutenants had already left the hut, so he stepped outside to see how the situation looked in light of the new morning.

There was little activity. Some of the men stood or sat outside their huts, in small groups or alone, some engaged in muted conversation, others just gazing out to sea or watching the others converse. Norrington watched them for some minutes, doing his best to appear calm and as if he had everything under control. A few of the men looked over at him, and he felt as though he should offer them some guidance or words of encouragement, but he honestly had not decided yet what should be done. They would have to eventually go in search of assistance, but the men were weary and weak, and those who were injured surely could not make a journey on foot. There were some supplies that had been salvaged, and they would last for a while, but he knew they could not survive indefinitely without replenishing them.

Norrington turned when he heard footsteps approaching. Gillette and Groves came up the path with a handful of men, each bringing a sack or barrel of supplies up from the shore.

Gillette set down his sack and greeted the commodore. "Good morning, sir. How are you feeling?"

"Well enough, considering," Norrington replied.

"We've got the men bringing everything up from the longboats. One of the huts has been made into a storehouse," Gillette reported. "I should have had it done last night, so I'm sorry for the delay."

"It's understandable. Have an inventory made of all the supplies, and also a list of those who are injured against those who are able to work."

"Yes, sir."

"And I would like to meet with you and Lieutenant Groves as soon as possible."

Gillette nodded, and went to follow the rest of the group to the storehouse. He and Groves soon returned, and joined Norrington inside their hut around the small table. Groves, still walking with a pronounced limp, grimaced slightly as he sat down, and set his sore ankle up on the fourth chair. Norrington cast a slight frown at the lieutenant's injured ankle, but then addressed the purpose of the meeting.

"I'm sure you both realize that our situation, while by no means ideal, could certainly be much worse," he began. "We have found shelter, and we have a substantial amount of food and supplies available. Once the inventory is complete, we will know better just how long we have before those things run out." He paused slightly. "However," he continued, "we ought not to stay here longer than absolutely necessary. It appears that these dwellings belong to someone, perhaps the East India Trading Company or someone who has had dealings with them, and I think it likely that they are only absent temporarily. And although the Company is by no means an enemy of ours, it would be best to avoid a surprise encounter with the Company."

"Avoid Cutler Beckett, that is," Groves commented.

Norrington shot him a sharp look. "It would simply be unwise to make ourselves indebted to the Company," he said. "Besides, we have no indication of when they will return, if they are, in fact, to do so. Therefore I feel we must seek assistance elsewhere. Surely there is another town nearby, an inhabited one, where we could find help. Later today I will be putting together a small party to go off to the nearest town. Gillette, you will lead this party, as I must remain here in case the Company should make an appearance, and as Lieutenant Groves is in no condition to be walking any distance."

The lieutenants exchanged a glance.

"We're to split up, you mean?" Gillette asked, apprehension evident on his face.

"I see no alternative. Those who are injured can hardly make the journey, especially to an unknown destination, and it would accomplish nothing for all of us to stay here waiting for our store of food to run out."

"Suppose you are forced to move? Or what if help comes while the party is still gone? How will we be reunited then?"

"Let's focus on the matters at hand, Lieutenant, rather than speculating for worst-case scenarios."

Gillette fell silent and nodded obediently.

"What are the rest of us to do in the meantime?" Groves asked.

"Care for the wounded. Rest, and recover. Do our best to make the supplies last. There is little we can do without a ship."

Groves just nodded, then turned to acknowledge the look Gillette was throwing him.

Norrington sighed and stared absently down at the table. It had been a hard decision to order his men to abandon the ship after the fight, and one he had resisted as long as possible. But it had soon become clear that she was in no condition to sail, having lost one mast and taken severe damage to another, and with the holds filling steadily with seawater. His only consolation was that it had not been his pride and flagship, the _Dauntless_, but an old ship just years away from being decommissioned. He liked to think that the ship's inadequacies had contributed greatly to its sinking, at least more so than had any command mistakes. Even so, he regretted the loss of one of the King's ships, and knew he would face a massive amount of paperwork upon his return to Port Royal.

"It wasn't your fault, sir," Groves said, displaying his uncanny ability to gauge the commodore's thoughts. "You can't blame yourself."

Norrington shook his head. "I am at fault for anything that happens under my command."

"You have lost no respect with us, sir. There is no one I know that would have commanded better."

Gillette nodded in fervent agreement.

Norrington offered a small smile, knowing his lieutenants did not give their support lightly.

There was knock on the door of the hut, a knock that sent the unlatched door swinging open inward, revealing a startled midshipman standing outside the hut, his fist raised in mid-knock.

"I'm, uh, sorry to disturb, Commodore," the man said, still apparently flustered.

Norrington frowned slightly. "Is something wrong, Mr. Briggs?"

"Well, no, sir, not exactly. Just thought you might want to know we've spotted a ship, sir."

Gillette and Groves exchanged a glance, silently asking each other if it would be too much to hope for rescue.

"Colors?" Norrington asked.

"Can't make them out yet, sir, sorry, sir, but she doesn't look like one of ours."

"Should we send up a signal?" Gillette asked.

Norrington hesitated. "I'd like to see this ship for myself, if you don't mind, Mr. Briggs."

"Of course, sir."

The officers followed Briggs down the path to the shore. Sure enough, there was a ship on the horizon, becoming clearer as it drew closer.

"Seems to be heading right towards us," Gillette pointed out.

Norrington took out his spyglass and turned it towards the approaching ship, hoping to discover a Navy vessel, or perhaps a passing English merchant or passenger ship. As the ship came into sharper focus in the spyglass, it became obvious why no colors had been visible. There were none.

None, that was, except for the color of the sails.

Black.

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><p><strong>Okay, I'm impatient, and it was written, so here's chapter 3. See what you think.<strong>


	4. Unwelcome Arrival

Norrington found it a struggle to keep himself from pacing the shoreline. There really was nothing to do except watch and wait for the _Black Pearl_ to either approach or turn away. Much to his dismay, it seemed as if the _Pearl_ were intent on her course straight towards where the Navy longboats had landed. To stave off madness, Norrington occupied his mind with making a list of people he would rather encounter than Jack Sparrow. It was a long list.

Norrington had sent Briggs back to the village without fully informing him of the situation. He thought it best not to raise an alarm before it was due. Lieutenant Groves had gone back to the town as well, to oversee activities there as well as to rest his sore ankle. Gillette remained on the beach, clearly antsy, but refraining from strained conversation because it was clear the commodore wasn't in a talking mood.

The _Black Pearl_ anchored, and pirates in longboats made their way to the beach. Jack stood at the head of one, his back to the shore, gesturing madly at the two crew members burdened with the task of rowing. The boat reached the sand and stopped with a lurch. Jack was knocked off his balance, and though he fought valiantly to regain it, he ultimately toppled backwards and landed unceremoniously in the sand. The pirate lay dazed for a moment, frowning as if confused as to why his feet were above him, and apparently still oblivious to the fact that he was not alone.

Norrington approached and peered with what he hoped was a menacing frown down at Jack. Jack's eyes widened, and there was a muffled exclamation of, "Bugger!" as the pirate scrambled to his feet, spewing sand in every direction. He scrambled to climb back into the boat, frantically shouting to his men to turn around.

"Mister Sparrow," Norrington said. He spoke in his best tone of command, having resolved to exploit the upper hand and the element of surprise while he still had them.

Jack froze. He turned around slowly, cautiously, and faced Norrington with his best Jack Sparrow grin. "Norrington, mate, why didn't you say you were dropping by for a visit?"

"I'm sorry, is this a bad time?" Norrington asked ironically.

"You could say that." Jack gave up on the boat and took a few steps towards Norrington.

"I don't suppose you'd care to elaborate as to why."

Jack laughed nervously and cast a glance past Norrington. "I see you've brought your charming lieutenant with you."

"We've got more up at the village, pirate," Gillette taunted.

Jack's face took on an expression of mild panic. "The village?"

"You know of it?" Norrington asked.

"All right, you win. How did you find me?" Jack demanded.

Norrington's frown of intimidation slipped. "Find you?" he repeated.

"I've hidden that little place for years, and I'll have you know it wasn't easy." Jack turned away, clearly distraught. "No one knows of this location, no one! Not even..." He stopped suddenly, and looked sharply back at Norrington. He seemed to relax, and the grin returned. "Commodore," he said slowly, once again approaching Norrington. "I don't see your ship."

"Well, I was hardly going to leave it out in the open for you to find."

"Then I don't suppose you'd like to tell me where you've anchored it, now?"

"Of course not."

"Aha!" Jack cried, pointing at Norrington with both index fingers. "That's because you haven't got one, have you?"

"Don't be absurd."

"Don't lie to me, Commodore," Jack scolded. He wiggled his finger in Norrington's face. "You're trapped here. You and your fine men, marooned on this island with no ship." The thought seemed to amuse him greatly, and he turned to his crew and shouted, "Hear that, gents? The Commodore hasn't got a ship! What do you think of that?"

There were snickers from the members of Jack's crew.

Norrington gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to simply deck the pirate, resisting only because he knew it would result in getting himself shot by one of the pirates. "If that were true, how would I have managed to arrive here?" Norrington countered, making a last desperate attempt to prolong the inevitable.

Jack spun to face him. "Easy," he said. "Sea turtles."

Norrington frowned at the daft pirate. "Sea turtles?" he repeated.

"Been done before."

"You're mad."

Jack grinned. "But I have a ship."

* * *

><p>Norrington could only stand back and watch as the pirates unloaded their own supplies onto the beach. Jack also stood by passively, intermittently shouting random instructions which were all but ignored.<p>

"Mister Sparrow," Norrington said, diverting the pirate's attention.

"Captain," Jack corrected, holding up a finger and pointing to himself. "Captain Jack Sparrow, if you don't mind."

Norrington ignored him. "I would appreciate it if you and your crew refrained from entering the village until I have had a chance to explain the situation to my men."

"And ruin the surprise?"

"Such a surprise would likely result in bloodshed, something I'm sure we would both like to avoid."

"Ah. Yes. Can't be starting a rivalry, now, can we, seeing as we're to be neighbors, eh?"

"Unless you know of any nearby town which could provide alternate accommodations for my crew."

"There's nothing for miles, mate, which is why I chose this little haven for my campground, as it were."

"Just as I feared." Norrington closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering what, exactly, he was going to say to his men. That they were to share quarters with a pirate crew? He sighed, knowing that was exactly what he would have to tell them, and not looking forward to it at all.

"That's it, Commodore," Jack said. "Just close your eyes and pretend it's all a dream."

Norrington opened his eyes and glared at the pirate.

Jack grinned and shrugged. "Or not." Then he frowned slightly as he studied the commodore's face. "You look bloody awful. What happened to you?"

"Wait here, Sparrow, until I come back." Norrington turned and started back up the path, with Gillette following just a few paces behind.

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><p><strong>Enter Jack. Of course. And it's going to get even more interesting than that, so keep reading, my friends. As soon as I write more, that is. Reviews are my favorite. ;)<strong>


	5. Shared Accommodations

Groves took the news as well as could be expected, then he and Gillette set to summoning the men so that the commodore could speak to them all at once. The men gathered outside the officers' hut, and Norrington stood between his lieutenants, facing the group. They watched him expectantly. Norrington studied their faces, not sure how to even begin.

"Thank you for assembling so quickly, gentlemen," he finally said. "It truly is necessary for us to maintain some kind of order, even in the face of our situation. Similarly, I would like to say that each of you performed admirably yesterday, and these misfortunes which have befallen us were not due to any misconduct or failing on your part." He hesitated slightly. "I have called you all together to inform you that this village, in which we have found shelter, is not as abandoned as it first appeared. Even yesterday there were clear signs of recent habitation here, a suspicion that was confirmed this morning by the arrival of another ship carrying those who make frequent use of this place."

There were murmurs throughout the crowd as the men speculated as to who this ship could be carrying.

"I have spoken to their captain, and we will be permitted to stay here as long as necessary, provided no trouble erupts between the two parties." He paused again, seeing the encouraged looks on his men's faces, and almost hating to break them with the last bit of news. "However, I feel it is necessary to warn you as to the identity of these others. It seems we are to be joined by none other than Jack Sparrow and his pirate crew."

A strained silence followed, punctuated only by a few apprehensive whispers from the men.

"I do not anticipate any trouble from Sparrow or his crew, and I have warned him about what he may anticipate should he break my good faith," Norrington continued. "I'll give you the same warning, gentlemen, and ask that you conduct yourselves as civilly as possible towards Sparrow and his crew. Our primary goal is to find passage home. Sparrow is not our present concern, and therefore he shall not be treated as such. Consider this a time of truce between ourselves and the _Black Pearl_."

Discomfort was evident on the faces of all those in the crowd. Some appeared fearful, while others frowned, and a few even cast quizzical glances up at the commodore.

"If anyone has any further questions, he may seek me out to speak privately," Norrington added, then he dismissed the men and disappeared into the hut.

Gillette and Groves entered a few moments later to find their superior sitting on his cot with his head in his hands.

"Commodore, are you all right?" Gillette asked.

Norrington looked up. "They think I've gone mad," he stated. "I saw it in their faces."

"Of course not, sir, they're only..."

"They're right. I'd have to be mad to allow the King's men to abide in the dwellings of pirates, the very enemies I have sworn to eradicate from these waters. It's madness!" He winced and closed his eyes, holding his side as the pain hit again. "This whole bloody situation, it's complete madness."

The two lieutenants stood in uncomfortable silence, searching for some way to ease the commodore's distress. They knew that for him, this nearly counted as a nervous breakdown.

Groves tentatively stepped forward. "Sir, is there anything we can do?"

Norrington sighed, regretting his loss of composure. "Forgive me," he said. "And no, Lieutenant. Nothing besides what you are already doing."

"Of course, sir, and if there is anything else that..."

He was cut off when the hut's front door was kicked loudly open. Jack Sparrow entered the hut, carrying a bottle of rum in each hand and strutting as if he owned the place. Which, in some convoluted way, he did. He paused and frowned when he noticed the officers in the room, staring at him.

"Sparrow," Norrington barked. "Did I not instruct you to wait on the shore until I came for you?"

"Yes, but you were taking such a painfully long time that I had begun to worry something unfortunate had caused you to forget about me," Jack replied. He set the rum down on the table, then stopped suddenly and spun around to face Norrington again. "What do you think you're doing?" the pirate demanded.

Norrington suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Sitting," he said.

"Not on my bed you're not."

"Your bed?"

"Yes, mine. Up." Jack crossed the room, shooing at Norrington, until he was close enough to take the commodore by his shoulders in an attempt to remove him from the cot.

Gillette actually drew his sword. "Unhand him, pirate!" he commanded.

Jack froze and spun around again to face at Gillette. "Bloody Navy English bugger," he retorted.

Groves didn't quite succeed in suppressing a snicker.

Jack frowned at him. "What's so funny?"

Groves calmed himself. "Nothing, sir. My mistake."

Jack turned back to Norrington. "I like him," he said, pointing at Groves.

Gillette took a step towards Jack, still holding his sword. "That's quite enough of your antics, Sparrow, so I suggest - "

"Stand down, Lieutenant," Norrington said wearily as he vacated the cot. "We are not here to antagonize one another. I thought I made that clear."

"Knew you'd warm up to me." Jack grabbed the bottles of rum off the table and sprawled out on his bed to begin drinking from one of them. For a moment he seemed to forget about the officers in the room, but then he noticed Norrington watching him and offered the second bottle.

Norrington just frowned.

Jack shrugged. "Suit yourself, mate, you look like you could use it."

"Captain Sparrow, if you don't mind, I think we have things to discuss."

"Such as?" Jack asked, as if he couldn't think of anything about the current circumstance that could possibly merit discussion.

"Accommodations, for one."

"What about 'em?"

"Surely you can see that it would be unwise for my men and yours to share lodgings. I think it necessary that we divide this camp in half, so that our two parties can live peaceably in such close proximity."

Jack studied the commodore's face for a moment, then hopped to his feet. "All right, I shall humor you, but only because you seem to be having a rough day, of sorts, and I'm just the kindhearted sort of fellow who gains no satisfaction from increasing your aforementioned level of displeasure."

The pirate was clearly in denial of the fact that it was he who caused all the day's trouble to begin with, but Norrington simply followed Jack out of the hut.

* * *

><p><strong>Another quick update. I'm spoiling you guys. That's just how I roll. I get a flash of brilliance and have a million good ideas, so I write them all at once. Then I disappear for a month, and come back with a few more. Don't worry yet, though, I've got more where this came from. Leave a review and let me know what you think!<strong>


	6. Word of Warning

Commodore Norrington and Captain Jack Sparrow spent more time than was necessary, at least in the commodore's opinion, dividing the camp into two parts. The pirate crew began hauling their cargo into the village, and they all seemed relatively unfazed by the news that they would be living alongside some of the Navy's finest, at least temporarily.

All except one, that was.

"Sparrow!" a female voice shouted. A woman came storming up the path, and though her dark face was half-hidden beneath the brim of a large hat, it was quite clear that she was not happy. "What's the matter with you?"

Norrington was slightly amused to notice that Jack seemed to flinch at the woman's every word. She stood toe-to-toe with the pirate, staring him down even though she was smaller than he was.

Jack laughed nervously and glanced over at the nearby commodore. "Commodore, I'd like you to meet Anamaria, one of the finest men, or, women, I suppose would be the more correct term in this particular case, to ever serve under yours truly." He grinned back at the woman. "May I present to you the ever-illustrious - "

"I know who he is," Anamaria interrupted, shooting a glare at Norrington. "And you're daft if you think we ought to be welcoming his kind into our camp."

"Daft is, in my opinion, all a matter of perspective, love. I am, after all, Captain Jack Sparrow."

"You're going to get yourself into trouble, Jack."

Norrington took half a step towards her. "I assure you, I have no intention of causing any harm to your captain or any other member of the crew," he interjected. "Believe me when I say that this situation is not much to my liking either, and that we will relocate as soon as is humanly possible."

"See?" Jack declared, spreading his arms wide with an exaggerated grin. "Can't we all just be friends?"

"No," Norrington and Anamaria said simultaneously.

Jack's face fell. "Oh."

Anamaria threw one last frown at Norrington, shook her head at Jack, then stalked off.

Jack seemed relieved to be out of Anamaria's presence. "Charming, isn't she?"

"I am afraid she is not alone in her sentiments," Norrington said. "Which is why I intend to find a way out of this place as soon as possible. Lieutenant Gillette is forming a party that will be sent off to seek assistance from the nearest settlement, hopefully in the form of a ship that can offer us passage home."

Jack grimaced slightly. "You don't want to be doing that."

"And why would seeking to remove my crew from your little pirate town be such a mistake?"

"It's not that, mate, it's the contact with the, ah, locals what'd be the problem."

"Are they savages?"

"In a manner of speaking," Jack answered evasively. "Best to leave them well enough alone." He started to walk away.

"Sparrow," Norrington said, halting the pirate. "You will earn yourself no favors by withholding information. Who else lives nearby?"

Jack slowly turned back, his face bearing a slightly pained expression. "I'd rather not say."

"You're trying my patience, Sparrow."

"Aren't I always doing that?" Jack asked, but then shrank from the commodore's frown and held up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right, I'll tell you. But I demand clemency from anything henceforth divulged within the context of my honorable efforts to assist in saving you and your Navy lads, savvy?"

Norrington didn't answer. He just frowned at Jack, unwilling to let his face betray any of the apprehension he was feeling. It was true that Sparrow had a way of embellishing his accounts of places and events, but Norrington had no trouble believing that the nearby settlements held danger for unsuspecting visitors, especially since it was clear that they seemed to intimidate the infamous "Captain Jack Sparrow."

Jack sighed in defeat, then looked intently up at Norrington. "How much do you know about the East India Trading Company?" he asked ominously.

"Practically everything there is to know."

"Aha, but that's where you're wrong. In actual reality, all you know is practically everything that the Company wants you to know, and nothing more."

"Are you implying that the Company has settlements here?"

Jack pouted, disgruntled at having his dramatic reveal spoiled. "Well, where did you suppose all this came from?" He gestured grandly with both arms at everything within sight. "Metal beds don't grow on trees, you know."

Norrington maintained his air of skepticism. "You're saying that you've been pilfering from the Company for years and haven't been caught once? I find that hard to believe."

"Trifles."

"You're lying, Sparrow."

"Am not. You haven't let me finish. No, of course I haven't been stealing from the Company for years without being caught, don't be absurd. I have, however, been trading with the Company for quite some time."

"The Company knows of your presence here and yet allows you to remain, untouched?" Norrington asked incredulously. "Surely not."

"It's the truth, Commodore, like it or not. So sorry to disenchant you from your vision of a perfect little world."

"My vision of the world has been far from perfect for quite some time."

"Well then. At least consider yourself warned as to what may await you should you choose to send your stouthearted Lieutenant Whats-His-Face off on his little sojourn."

"What makes you think I have any reason to avoid the Company?"

"Norrington, mate, you wound me." Jack put on an expression of mock insult. "I may be a pirate, but I am not at all blind to the goings-on of the powers that be. Seems to me the last thing you'd want is to make yourself beholden to the likes of him, eh?"

"You've made your point. But despite your best attempts at deterring me from what I see as the only logical course of action, I will proceed with my aforementioned plan. We cannot stay here, and without a ship, there is no option but to request assistance from the Company."

Norrington turned and started away from Jack. As much as it would hurt his pride to seek favors from Lord Beckett and the Company, he knew that he could not justify risking the lives of his entire crew for the sake of his own ego.

"Commodore," Jack called, slowing him. "There is a third option."

* * *

><p><strong>Enter the EITC... This could get interesting... (At least, I hope you'll think so.) Updates might not come as quickly for a while... I realized I have a paper to write for class that should really start becoming more of a priority this week. Let me know what you think! :)<strong>


	7. Options

"Does Sparrow actually expect us to trust him?" Gillette scoffed.

"He has surmised that we have no other choice," Norrington said stiffly. Once again, the officers had gathered around the table in the mud hut for a conference. Briggs had been assigned the duty of keeping Jack outside until the meeting had concluded.

Jack's "third option" had really been more of a business proposition than anything else. He alluded to a job that needed doing, a job that would require the assistance of knowledgeable and skilled men, and had implied that the Commodore and Gillette fell directly into this category. The proposition was that, if Norrington agreed to accompany Jack on this little mission of his, then Jack would transport the Commodore and his crew to the nearest Naval base.

"It's madness, of course," Gillette concluded, clearly amused at the thought that Jack would actually think the Navy should accept such an offer.

"And yet," Groves countered, eyeing Norrington carefully, "you wouldn't have brought it up if you weren't considering it."

Gillette frowned sharply. "Sir, you're not...?"

Norrington sighed and rested his face in his hands. That was answer enough.

"Sir, it's madness," Gillette insisted. "It's absurd. Why, it's... it's practically piracy!"

Groves rolled his eyes.

"You don't think so?"

"Not any more than has been committed by the Company for trading with pirates."

"We don't even know what sort of mission Sparrow plans for us to complete! Knowing him, it's likely illegal."

"The lack of specifics is troubling," Groves admitted. "But if Sparrow really does need our assistance, it's not likely he'd want to drag us along only to have his request refused at the last moment. He may be a pirate, and he may be a bit mad, but he's not stupid." A slight smile twitched at the corners of Groves' mouth. "Certainly one would have to possess at least some amount of wit to elude the Navy's finest for so long."

Norrington shot him a glance.

Groves shrugged in halfhearted apology.

Norrington sat up and faced his lieutenants. "I appreciate your thoughts. At present, we have three options before us, none of which are particularly appealing, for various reasons. I will think it over and have a decision for you by morning."

"Give it to us today, or you'll be up all night debating it," Groves said.

"I fear I'll be up all night anyway," Norrington muttered.

"Despite my reservations, Commodore, you have only ever given me reason to trust your judgment," Gillette offered. "I understand the difficulty of your position, and I stand behind you in whatever you decide."

Groves nodded in agreement.

Norrington forced a smile of thanks, but felt no more at ease over the decision. Having heard Sparrow's warning, he couldn't justify sending a party off alone in search of a civilization that might not exist. Directly seeking help from the East India Trading Company was the obvious alternative, but even though the Company and the Navy were allies in writing, he feared that asking such a favor would open the door for potential exploitation of "favors owed."

He had many reservations about teaming up with Sparrow, but for some inexplicable reason his mind kept returning to the third option. It was, in theory, a fair deal. A favor for a favor, and then he and Sparrow could part ways with no debts owed on either side. But Jack Sparrow was a pirate. And not only that, he was Jack Sparrow.

Norrington stood up and left the hut, neglecting to give even a parting word to his lieutenants.

* * *

><p>The Commodore was conspicuously elusive throughout the rest of the day. Jack's appearances were also few and far between, but his erratic behavior was nothing out of the ordinary. The afternoon passed peacefully enough, with the only minor incident being an attempt by the pirate crew to start up a raucous drinking game. Gillette had quickly put an end to it. Anamaria had just as quickly put an end to any argument from the pirates, and they had obediently dispersed.<p>

It was clear that the two crews were wary of each other. The men kept to their own sides of the camp, but often threw each other suspicious glances across the invisible dividing line. Gillette and Groves had taken it upon themselves to find alternate accommodations for the officers, in light of the revelation that they had been occupying Captain Sparrow's own personal hut. Though, what one man would do with three beds to himself, they didn't know, and didn't particularly care to know.

Afternoon was just fading into evening when Anamaria found Norrington standing on the beach, hands clasped behind his back, staring off at the dimming horizon. He turned when he heard footsteps in the sand behind him.

"There you are," Anamaria barked, just a touch of irritation in her voice. "Don't you know we've been looking for you?"

"I fail to see how I could have known any such thing," he replied.

She crossed her arms. "In any case, I suppose I can tell your lieutenants you haven't deserted."

Now the Commodore frowned slightly. "Is something wrong?"

"They're just a bit worried, Commodore. Hadn't seen you all afternoon."

Norrington sighed. "Well, you may tell them that I had simply come down to the water to think, and there is no need for concern."

"Aye, Sir," she said, sarcastically, and turned to walk away. When she had nearly reached the path to the village, she turned back and called, "We'll all be havin' supper soon if you want any."

He merely nodded to acknowledge that he had heard and understood. Anamaria turned again and disappeared up the path, not bothering to see if he would follow. Norrington threw another lingering glance out at the sea, its waters flickering orange with the light of the waning sun. He didn't feel much like eating, but knew he ought to at least make an appearance at the evening meal. It was true that he had been absent for the better part of the afternoon, and it wouldn't do for him to appear as if he were avoiding company.

When Norrington returned to the village, he found an atmosphere of mechanical fellowship between his crew and the pirates, as a common meal was being served by the Navy cook and two of Jack's crew members. He thanked the cook for his efforts and generosity, and acknowledged the two pirates for their work as well.

Norrington found his two lieutenants sitting together next to one of the huts, having just finished their own food. Gillette all but jumped to his feet when Norrington approached. "Commodore!" he exclaimed. "I..." Then he seemed to catch himself. "That is, we, were just wondering where you had gone. We thought it a bit odd that you'd been gone so long."

"I'm sorry if you were concerned," Norrington said. "I had simply gone off to think things over on my own."

"That's what I told him," Groves said, still sitting. He had his injured ankle resting on a folded blanket, his boot lying on the ground next to him.

Norrington ignored the comment and frowned at the ankle, which was discolored and swollen. "Are you all right, Lieutenant?"

"I twisted it again," the lieutenant replied, a bit sheepishly. "I hate to complain, but I can hardly walk anymore. Shouldn't have been walking on it at all, I suppose."

"Which is exactly what I told him," Gillette interjected.

Norrington managed to frown at them both. "Did you two do anything this afternoon besides bicker with each other and bemoan my absence?"

Gillette quickly presented a detailed report of the afternoon's activities, including the revised housing situation and the meal's preparation.

Satisfied, Norrington nodded to the two men, instructed Groves to rest his ankle, then bid the two officers good night and disappeared into the hut.

* * *

><p><strong>Long chapter this time. It was either that or two awkward short chapters. Leave a review and let me know what you think so far. I hope it's still interesting and not moving too slowly. :)<strong>


	8. Conversations

The night air was brisk and refreshing. A sliver of a moon was low in the sky, offering little light to drown out the numerous stars. Any other night, Norrington might have enjoyed walking outdoors and looking up at the sky. Tonight, though, his mind was elsewhere. He wandered aimlessly through the little village, hoping the fresh air would clear his head, but the walking only made his side ache. Eventually he returned to the hut and sat down on the ground outside the hut's front wall. He rested his head back against the wall and hid his eyes behind his hand as he tried to force a surrender from the turmoil in his mind.

"Commodore!"

Norrington looked towards the source of the voice. "Sparrow," he said, to simply acknowledge the pirate's presence.

Jack was walking towards him, carrying a bottle of rum and grinning. "Norrington, mate, you're not your usual lighthearted self." Jack plopped down on the ground next to the Commodore. "Therefore, I have deduced that something must be troubling that wig-encircled head of yours."

"It's been a long and difficult day, no thanks to you," Norrington replied stiffly. "I'm sure you understand."

"I do indeed." Jack offered the bottle to Norrington. "A little peace offering from a penitent man."

Norrington just glared at him. "You, Mr. Sparrow, are far too pleased with this situation."

Jack frowned and recoiled slightly. "Am not," he argued. "I do, however, see that my efforts at hospitality are unwanted here, so I'll just leave you to your solitude, shall I?" The pirate stood up and started to walk away.

Once Jack was no longer sitting next to him, Norrington found himself strangely regretting the loss of company. "Sparrow," he called, impulsively.

Jack paused and turned on his heels, eyebrows raised with interest.

Norrington sighed. "I never said I couldn't use a drink."

"Good man. Knew you'd warm up to me." Jack returned to his spot on the ground and handed over the rum.

Norrington hesitated slightly, and wiped the bottle on his sleeve before drinking from it.

Jack took another bottle out of his coat for himself. "You know," he mused, becoming thoughtful. "We're not so different, you and I."

"And how have you possibly managed to arrive at that conclusion?" Norrington asked.

Jack set his bottle on the ground next to him so that he could talk with his hands, as was his habit. "Men of the sea, we are. Captains, in fact, or, in your case, something roughly similar, in the equivalent sense, if you know what I mean. Always looking to the best interests of him what looks to us for guidance. Quite a lot in common, wouldn't you say?"

Norrington's only reply was a frown. He found Jack's demeanor unusually reflective, and wondered just how much rum it had taken to get the pirate to this point.

The pirate continued without missing a beat. "Well, except, of course, that each of us can't stand the likes of the other, what with you always chasing me all over the ocean and me always eluding your capture. But here we are. You, marooned here, with me, and there's nothing you can do about it. How's that for irony?"

Norrington only shook his head and took another drink of rum.

"That's what you get when you pit two men against each other, such as ourselves. Hate, fear, bit of envy..."

"I do not envy you, Sparrow."

Jack held up a finger. "There is a difference between envy and approval, mate."

"What do you have that I could possibly be envious of?"

"A ship," Jack taunted, the insufferable grin creeping across his face. "Can't argue with that, can you, Commodore?" The pirate's verbal jab was accentuated by a physical one, in the form of an elbow to the Commodore's ribs.

Norrington was barely able to stifle a cry of pain as Jack's elbow came into direct contact with the day-old slash wound. Spots of light danced in front of his eyes. He clutched his side and drew deep breaths through clenched teeth, then muttered a curse as his head started to clear.

Jack just frowned at him. "What's the matter with you?"

Norrington threw a glare at the pirate, but pulled back his coat to reveal the torn fabric and bloodstains.

"Oh," Jack said, as realization dawned. "Quite the lovely souvenir you've got there."

Norrington rolled his eyes, then closed them and rested his head back against the hut. "Occupational hazard," he muttered.

"You're frightfully pale, mate. Have some more rum. You'll feel better."

Norrington grudgingly obeyed. He knew he really shouldn't be drinking at all, especially rum, especially with Jack Sparrow, but it was true that the drink was easing both the mental and the physical distress. "I don't suppose you'd care to give me any more information about the nature of this venture we are to be undertaking," he said.

"I'd hate to spoil the surprise," Jack replied. "You understand."

"I'm not sure that I can handle any more surprises," Norrington muttered.

Jack, for some reason, decided to have mercy. "All right, all right. Surely you've noticed the absence of one of my more prestigious crew members."

"Of course I haven't."

"Think about it, mate. You've noticed him missing before."

"If you're going to speak in riddles - "

"Mr. Gibbs, who, if I'm not mistaken, once served under your esteemed lieutenantship, has been for some time now, acting quite capably as my first mate. He is, however, not, at this moment or even in this general frame of time, so to speak, here, that is, in this particular location, around or near us."

"And what has this got to do with me?"

"Everything, mate. Or, something, at least, if you do, in fact, want my help."

"It's more of a desperation of need, than a want."

"And that's only fair," Jack admitted. "But if you help me in retrieving him from his present and other undesirable location, I promise to assist you in your return home."

"Why is Gibbs in need of rescuing?"

Jack hesitated. "Long story," he said, waving his hand to dismiss the matter. "Won't bore you with details. But I assure you, I've got a foolproof plan what's worked like a charm many a time before, and all I need is a bit of assistance from you. What say you to that? Do we have an accord?"

Norrington sighed, and reluctantly nodded, though he was unable to ignore the suspicion that he may later regret such an agreement.

"Oh, good!" Jack exclaimed. "Now you'd best get your sleep. We'll be needin' you, mate."

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, yay, an update! Your favorite! Because I can read your minds and all, right? I'm thinking the next chapter will start to move a little quicker. Probably. Kindly leave a review and let me know what you thought. :)<strong>


	9. Final Preparations

"I have made my decision," Norrington announced.

It was early morning, and the sun was barely making itself visible above the horizon, but the Commodore and his lieutenants had already given up on any more sleep. Gillette was doing his best to appear relaxed, but he had never been particularly skilled at concealing his feelings, and it was clear he was anxious to have a plan of action ahead of him. Groves was more impatient than anxious, but he also waited intently for the Commodore's words.

Norrington hesitated, studying their faces and knowing this was his last chance to second-guess himself. Finally he decided to just bite the proverbial bullet and say it plainly. "I have agreed to Sparrow's terms," he said, and refused to allow his shoulders sag with defeat or relief as he did. "I will be accompanying him in his effort to rescue his first mate, and in return, he has agreed to give us passage to our nearest port."

The lieutenants looked at each other, but not in surprise. Clearly they had prepared themselves for the possibility, perhaps even probability, that the Commodore would agree to Sparrow's terms.

"I thought I was to be included in this mission," Gillette said.

"That was Sparrow's intent, yes," Norrington agreed. "But I have decided that it is unfair to ask such a thing of you. I'll go myself. You and Lieutenant Groves will remain here, in charge of the men."

Gillette shook his head. "I won't allow you to go alone, sir. I'll come with you, just as Sparrow asked."

"I can't ask you to..."

"You're not. I'm volunteering."

Norrington held the man's gaze for a moment, then dropped his eyes and nodded. He looked over at Groves. "Mr. Groves, that will leave you here as the sole officer in command of these men. I want you to maintain as much order as possible, which includes peaceful relations with any members of Sparrow's crew that are to remain here with you."

* * *

><p>Dawn was just breaking. Norrington went outside to meet Jack down at the shore, and was mildly surprised to find him snoozing on the ground outside the hut. He wondered vaguely if Jack had spent the entire night there.<p>

Gillette came out of the hut also, supporting Groves, who was trying to avoid leaning on his injured ankle. Groves sat down on a crude wooden bench that stood outside the hut, and Gillette joined Norrington in staring down at the sleeping pirate. "Should we wake him?" Gillette asked.

Norrington nudged Jack with his foot. Jack's eyes popped open and he looked around, as if trying to figure out where he was and why the Commodore was frowning down at him. Then he seemed to make sense of the situation, and hopped to his feet and brushed himself off, paying no attention to the three officers who were watching him.

When he had finished making himself presentable, Jack faced Norrington with an enthusiastic grin. "Lovely morning, Commodore. I trust you slept well," he said, though the shadows under the Commodore's eyes made it clear that he had not.

"I see you made good use of the cabin we vacated for you," Norrington commented.

Jack responded with a sheepish grin and a shrug.

"Lieutenant Gillette and I are ready to accompany you, whenever you and your crew are ready to depart."

Jack looked around him for a moment, then turned back to Norrington and announced that he was ready.

"And your crew?" Gillette asked, slipping a bit of sarcasm into his tone.

"What about them?"

Norrington frowned. "Aren't they coming with us?"

"Nope," Jack replied. "It'll be just the three of us. Simpler that way."

"Your ship cannot be crewed by three men."

"I've done it with two," the pirate countered, throwing a grin at Gillette. "Isn't that right, Lieutenant?"

Gillette only scowled at him. Groves made a valiant effort a stifling a chuckle, but still earned himself a glare from Gillette and a sigh from Norrington.

"Well, now that we've got that bit of confusion all clarified, best not to waste daylight," Jack said. He started towards the beach.

"Just a moment, Mr. Sparrow," Norrington called, halting him. "I was under the impression that your men would be coming with us. Am I to understand that you intend to leave them here, to their own devices, alongside my men?"

Jack frowned. "To be honest, I never took you for the dim-witted type, mate. Thought you could've deduced the obvious on your own."

"I had hoped you would be clever enough to pick up on my reservations about leaving your crewmen to do as they please," Norrington said, deftly ignoring the insult. "You and I have an agreement, of sorts, yes. But I have no way of knowing what sort of behaviors these men will resort to in the absence of fear of their Captain."

Jack put on his best wounded grimace. "Norrington, mate, your lack of faith is astounding. I'll have you know the gents of the _Pearl_ are among the finest in the business."

"In the business of piracy, that is."

Jack moved back towards Norrington and just squinted at him for a moment. Then he sighed and spread hands in a gesture of surrender. "I had, in fact, anticipated such feelings from you, Commodore, in regard to my fine crew of buccaneers, as it were, and have already made arrangements which should allay any such fears of yours, all right?"

"What sort of arrangements?"

"You think the crew are afraid of me? Not that they shouldn't be, for after all, I am Captain Jack Sparrow, but it seems they've got even more reason to keep Anamaria happy, and since I have left her to act in my place, I trust there will be trouble whatsoever."

Norrington frowned, not entirely reassured.

"She and your fine crippled lieutenant will be, in a sense, co-second-first-mates. Collaborators." Jack grinned over at Groves. "I'm sure you two will have a grand ol' time, eh?"

Groves cast an anxious glance over at Norrington.

Norrington almost backed out of the pirate's deal. Almost. But he hesitated.

Jack took advantage of the Commodore's hesitation, and clapped his hands together. "Well, now that everything's all settled, let's get on with it, shall we?" he declared. "We are, after all, men of action, are we not?"

Norrington sighed. "Lead on, Captain Sparrow."

* * *

><p><strong>I keep my own little Pirates universe in the back of my mind... one that disregards the second two movies because it's just easier to write stuff that way. Hope this wasn't boring. I wrote it kinda fast. But bear with me. :) Oh, and leave a review. ;)<strong>


	10. Mealtime Revelations

Jack took great satisfaction in proving to the Commodore and his Lieutenant that the _Pearl_ could, in fact, be crewed by three men. Norrington reflected that Jack was actually proving the _Pearl_'_s_ ability to be crewed by only two men, as Jack was barely doing enough work to be considered contributing the efforts of a full man.

Norrington was pleasantly surprised to find the pirate's ship in a state of relative decency and cleanliness. He had prepared himself for the worst. Of course the _Black Pearl_ was hardly up to his and the Navy's rigorous standards, but it wasn't the abyss of filth and disorder that was typical of pirate vessels. And once he recovered from the excruciatingly humbling experience of being forced to take orders from Jack Sparrow, Norrington actually found himself glad for the chance to perform mindless manual labor, even with the wound on his ribs vehemently protesting such physical exertion.

Gillette was clearly not sharing in the Commodore's positive outlook, and was barely restraining himself from grumbling outright against his various assigned tasks. When Jack walked off to stand at the helm, Gillette finally gave up on scrubbing dirt from the staircase and walked over to where Norrington was busy winding a knotted mess of rope into a proper coil.

"He's mad," Gillette said. "He's mad if he thinks he can force us to do his dirty work."

Norrington only glanced at his lieutenant before returning his attention to the ropes.

"Sir, don't you find this sort of treatment... demeaning?"

Norrington finally abandoned the rope and faced Gillette. "Remember, Lieutenant, that you insisted on coming along on this voyage. I think our present situation is as favorable as could be expected."

Gillette sighed and squinted up at the sun, shielding his eyes. It was high overhead, and warm.

"Gentlemen!" Jack exclaimed, appearing quite suddenly. "I believe it is noon, and since you both have performed so admirably, and I would have expected nothing less from two fine representatives of the prestigious Royal Navy, I invite you to join me in a bit of lunch, what say you to that?"

They readily accepted, and Jack brought them down to his own cabin, where he had a relatively elegant meal set out on a small, rickety table.

"Do you always feast so magnificently?" Gillette commented, raising an eyebrow at the extravagant set-up.

"In fact I do," Jack said. He gestured grandly with both arms and a slight bow towards the chairs around the table, and invited the two officers to sit.

Norrington and Gillette obeyed, but exchanged a glance, silently asking each other if they should be wary of the pirate's hospitality. Jack plopped down in the third chair and immediately started eating. He paused after a moment when he noticed that his two guests had not followed his example.

Jack frowned quizzically at the Commodore and Gillette. "If you two aren't hungry you can go back to work," he said with his mouth full.

"Forgive us if we're a bit ignorant of your established procedures of dining," Norrington replied.

"Listen to you and your highfalutin presumptions," Jack said, waving a hand dismissively. "Established procedures? This isn't one of your fancy high-society banquets, mate, what with your funny rules and propriety and all sorts of utter nonsense. We're on a pirate ship, in case you hadn't noticed." He stuffed more food into his mouth, and washed it all down with a swig of rum.

"I hope you won't mind if we still choose to behave like civilized men," Gillette commented, but he helped himself to the food.

Jack shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Norrington found the pirate's meal surprisingly tasty, or perhaps he was just hungry. The three men ate in silence for a while, none of them knowing what to say in the way of idle conversation, and also painfully unsure of where to even focus their stray glances. Norrington and Gillette found it most appropriate to keep their eyes on the plates in front of them, but Jack seemed to have no qualms about watching the officers eat. More than once Norrington glanced up to find the pirate staring at him, and Jack only grinned in response to the Commodore's frowns.

Finally Norrington thought he had to make conversation. "Sparrow, I never took you for a man inclined towards culinary skill, but this meal has been quite enjoyable."

"Oh, it's not my doing, mate," Jack replied. "All this, thanks to the cook."

"I thought your cook was staying behind."

Jack frowned, his face contorting in confusion. "Eh?"

Gillette sighed. "The Commodore's asking how your cook could have prepared our lunch if he's not here," he clarified.

"Well obviously all this was prepared before the cook's departure from the ship." Jack looked as if he were having doubts about the two officers' mental capacities.

"That was over a day ago."

"Well, clearly."

Gillette dropped his fork. "I just lost my appetite."

Norrington only sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Don't complain, mates," Jack said, once again stuffing his face. "Cook doesn't take kindly to such lack of gratitude. Besides, 's not likely you'll be gettin' another meal so fine once we disembark."

"And just when, in your estimation, might that be?" Norrington asked pointedly, hoping to convey his serious doubts about having received no concrete information about the nature of the pirate's plan.

Jack thought for a moment, counted on his fingers, then replied, "This very afternoon, if I'm not mistaken. Likely within the hour."

Norrington frowned. "Just where have we been sailing to?"

"Only the other side of the little island you were so keen as to discover," Jack replied. "Didn't I tell you? It's the esteemed Lord Beckett what's taken Gibbs into his unfortunate custodial situation."

Now Norrington, too, felt his appetite vanish. "You failed to mention that."

"Oh," Jack said, as if he were genuinely surprised that he had left out such an important bit of information. "Must've slipped me mind."

* * *

><p><strong>Oh boy, more conflict! I hope this wasn't boring or weird. Let me know what you thought - your comments always make my day!<strong>


	11. Obstructions to Progress

"You wanted to see me?" Anamaria asked sarcastically, following Briggs to where Groves sat. She crossed her arms to make it clear she was only humoring him.

"Yes," he replied, looking up from the inventory list he had been studying. "Thank you, Mr. Briggs. You may go."

Briggs nodded and walked away.

"Would it really have been so much trouble for you to come find me yourself?" Anamaria asked, frowning slightly at Groves.

"Only because I've hurt my ankle in such a way that makes walking a bit perilous," he said. "I know I hide it well, but I'm actually in an extraordinary amount of pain."

She remained unmoved. "What do you want? I haven't got all day."

"Of course." Groves offered her a polite smile and set the inventory aside. "It is my understanding that Captain Sparrow has left you in charge of his crew for the duration of his absence."

"Aye," she answered warily.

"Seeing as we are the two acting leaders here, I think we ought to come to some sort of agreement that will hold each of us accountable to the other, in order to assure peaceful relations between my men and yours."

Anamaria smiled slightly. "You mean, you'd like to lay some ground rules to keep the men from killing each other."

"Well, I suppose you could look at it that way."

"It's all right." She shrugged. "I don't trust you either."

"That's not what I - "

"What sort of agreements are you seeking, Lieutenant?"

"Get right to the point, don't you?" Groves commented. "Well, first of all, I won't tolerate any fighting or violence of any sort."

She frowned.

"On either side," he clarified, but too late.

"You think we'd attack you?" Anamaria demanded. "Is that what this is about?"

"I only - "

"We're not barbarians, Lieutenant. Believe it or not, pirates follow orders, and we've been ordered to act hospitably so that's what we'll do."

"Perhaps I misspoke, but - "

"You think you're better than us, but if you'd come down off your high-and-mighty Royal Navy throne and take a look you'd see they're good men." Anamaria stalked angrily away.

Groves just stared after her. Baffled and discouraged as he was, he reflected that the conversation could actually have gone much worse.

* * *

><p>True to Jack's estimation, the <em>Black Pearl<em> reached her destination while the afternoon was still quite young. The three men landed on a beach much like the one near the village. This shore, however, showed no signs of recent habitation. The plant life came almost all the way to the water's edge, and the growth was much thicker, without a nearby civilization to tame it.

"Just how far are we going?" Gillette asked, eyeing the jungle suspiciously.

"Far?" Jack repeated. "Well, I suppose that would depend on your perspective, wouldn't it? Distance is such a relative measure, you know, so it really is difficult to say with any amount of certainty how far, exactly, we are, in fact, going."

"So you don't know," Norrington concluded.

"Haven't the foggiest." Jack spun to face inland and took out his compass. He pointed and started to walk towards the right, paused and made a ninety-degree turn back the way he had come, then made a gradual turn until he faced his original direction. Jack closed the compass briefly, shook it, opened it again, and waited. Finally he grinned and pointed confidently straight ahead. "This way, gentlemen," he announced, drawing his sword. "Stay close and keep a sharp eye."

Gillette shot Norrington a look that conveyed extreme displeasure with the situation, but they both followed Jack into the jungle.

"What, exactly, are we to be "keeping a sharp eye" for?" Gillette asked.

"Anything what could render this mission unsuccessful," Jack replied. He held the compass out in front of him and used his sword to move leaves and branches out of his path as he walked. "Cannibals, savages, ferocious man-eating beasts... large moths... the French..."

Gillette rolled his eyes, clearly doubting the pirate's assessment of possible hazards.

Progress was slow. The jungle was thick with plant life, and the underbrush was no exception, making it difficult to walk without tripping or twisting an ankle. Jack halted every few feet to verify with the compass that they were, in fact, still moving in the right direction.

"Sparrow, have you any idea where we are going?" Norrington asked, as Jack paused once again.

"To rescue Gibbs, of course," Jack replied. "We've been through this, haven't we?"

"Do you know where he is being held?"

"I would assume it's in a prison of some sort."

"You've never seen the place."

"Trifles, mate. That's what the compass is for." Jack threw a less-than-reassuring grin over his shoulder.

"Your broken compass is going to lead us to a place that you've never seen before?" Gillette asked.

Jack stopped and turned around to face him. "First of all, my compass is not, nor has it ever been, broken. And secondly, yes. Savvy? Leave me alone." Jack turned back around, shook his head in bewilderment at the lieutenant's incessant questions, and then continued walking.

There was a rustling in the brush just ahead, and Jack halted suddenly, throwing out his arms to stop Norrington and Gillette behind him. He pressed the compass into Gillette's hand and pulled out his pistol, then cautiously advanced on the source of the noise. Holding his sword at arm's length, and aiming the pistol towards a leafy fern, Jack used his sword to move the fern's leaves aside. "Who goes there?" Jack demanded, trying and failing to sound like he meant business.

Something darted out from behind the bush. Jack leaped back with a startled exclamation, and fired his pistol at the moving something. The pistol's shot echoed for a moment, then everything was silent. Jack stared down at the ground for a moment, then relaxed with a sheepish grin and stuffed the pistol back into his belt. "All clear," he announced.

Gillette stepped forward and peered down at the ground. "Yes, it's most providential that you were here to protect us from that innocent field mouse," he commented. "Meanwhile, you've wasted a shot and alerted the entire island to our presence."

Jack pouted. "Didn't I tell you to shut it?" He snatched his compass back and continued walking.

"I don't suppose you have any sort of plan as to how this rescue is to be attempted," Norrington suggested.

"The thing about plans is that they don't always work," Jack replied.

"So you're just leading us blindly to an unknown location with no useful information and no plan as to what you're going to do once you get there."

"Have a little faith, eh?"

"You told me you had a plan."

"This is it, mate. Sail around the island, locate Gibbs, rescue him. Simple, direct, leaves plenty of room for adaptation to unforeseen situations."

"You say that like it's a good thing."

Jack grinned over his shoulder. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Norrington rolled his eyes and tried to summon an extra ounce of patience. "Sparrow - "

Jack stopped suddenly, nearly causing Norrington and Gillette to run into him.

"What now, Sparrow?" Gillette taunted. "Perhaps some sort of fearsome winged insect or a colorful bird that's going to eat us up?"

Jack ignored Gillette and turned to face Norrington. "Commodore, do you trust me?"

"About as far as I could throw you," Norrington replied, glaring at the pirate.

Jack's eyes darted to the side. "Which is how far, exactly?"

"In prison, Mr. Sparrow."

Jack faced Norrington again with a grin. "Oh, good," he said, and turned back around. "No worries, then." He started moving again, and quickly disappeared behind a line of trees.

Norrington frowned, and he and Gillette moved to catch up. Within a few paces, they had passed the tree barrier and found themselves reunited with Jack in a small clearing. They weren't alone. About twenty uniformed soldiers faced them with rifles and bayonets. Jack simply grinned at the soldiers, his sword on the ground and his arms raised in gesture of surrender.

Gillette drew his sword and moved to swing it at the nearest soldier, but was stopped by the butt of a rifle to the back of his head. Norrington had been reaching for his pistol, not trusting his wounded body to sustain the movements necessary for proper sword-handling, but stopped when he saw his lieutenant fall and felt the prick of a bayonet on the back of his own neck.

"By order of Lord Beckett of the East India Trading Company, you will be taken into custody for hostile trespassing and suspicious behavior," a soldier commanded. "Lower your weapons, or you will be shot."

Norrington hesitated briefly to examine his options, then grudgingly complied when he realized that there were none.

* * *

><p><strong>Yay for updates! I should be writing a paper, but I got it started, at least, then realized I hadn't updated this in a while. So here you go. Now I'm off to see about some more academically-oriented writing... Reviews are always appreciated!<strong>


	12. Cooperation at its Finest

"Sir, does the water taste funny to you?" Briggs was standing next to the communal water barrel and gazing quizzically into a cup.

Groves looked over at him. "How do you mean?"

"It doesn't taste like water."

"Well, where did it come from?"

"I don't know, sir. It was a number of the pirates who put themselves in charge of the water." Briggs handed Groves the cup. "Taste it for yourself."

Groves' first inclination was to dismiss the matter as Briggs' imagination, but he took a sip out of curiosity and discovered that the liquid did, in fact, bear a flavor that was much unlike the clear water he was accustomed to. He frowned.

"You see?" Briggs insisted.

Groves took another sip, then sighed and handed the cup back. "They've put rum in it," he said.

Briggs frowned incredulously. "Rum?" he repeated.

Groves nodded.

"But how can you - "

Groves shot Briggs a look to tell him that there was no need for that question to be either asked or answered. "Is there any other water ration?"

Briggs shook his head. "We saw no reason not to combine all the water in one location. There's a spring nearby, but we'd have to send some of the men with a barrel to draw some more out."

"How many men? Two? Three?"

Briggs glanced at the barrel for a moment, judging its size and weight, then replied, "I think two. If I took Hennyson with me, I'm sure we could handle it."

Groves carefully got to his feet, warily testing his ankle to see if it would hold him. "Go ahead and do that, then, you and Hennyson," he said. "It's unlikely you'll encounter any trouble, but, as always, be on your guard."

Briggs nodded, then frowned slightly when Groves winced as he tried to take a step. "May I ask where you're going?"

"Apparently nowhere," Groves muttered, sitting back down. "Before you go, perhaps you could find me the men who you say appointed themselves caretakers of the water supply."

"Of course. I'll send them right over."

Briggs went away, leaving Groves alone to scowl down at his hurting ankle and berate himself for being clumsy enough to injure it. Telling Norrington that he had wrenched it "during the fighting" was probably a bit misleading, though it was technically the truth, and it was likely that the injury would not have occurred were it not for the surrounding chaos of battle.

Groves looked up when he heard footsteps, and saw two scraggly pirates approaching. The skinny one was hunched and nervous, and was rubbing a small, round object between his hands. The other, older and fatter, eyed Groves warily even through his fake, guilty grin. As the pirates drew closer, Groves saw that the skinny one was missing an eye, and that the round object was apparently a wooden prosthetic crafted to take the place of the missing eye. The pair stopped, and Groves watched with mild fascination, and just a little bit of disgust, as the skinny pirate popped the wooden eye into his empty eye socket.

"You wanted to see us?" the fat pirate asked, pleasantly enough, but with just a trace of mocking condescension.

"Ah... yes," Groves said, tearing his gaze away from the wooden eye. "Yes," he said again. "Thank you for your promptness."

"Masters Pintel and Ragetti, at your service," the fat pirate said, indicating himself as Pintel and his companion as Ragetti. "Now just what is it that you want, Lieutenant?"

"Mr. Briggs informed me that it was the two of you who were responsible for that barrel of water, there." He pointed.

The two pirates followed his gesture to look at the barrel, then turned back. "Aye," Pintel replied, suspiciously.

"Took care of that for you, we did," Ragetti added, earning himself a glare from Pintel.

"Yes, and I do appreciate all you and your fellows have been doing around here," Groves assured them. "However, I have reason to suspect that that barrel contains more than just water."

The pirates exchanged a glance.

"You've mixed rum into our water supply, haven't you?"

Pintel was suddenly on the defensive. "So? And what if we have?"

"Anamaria said it'd be all right," Ragetti insisted, sounding much like a child who was afraid of being punished. "Said you wouldn't mind, she did."

Groves sighed. "I'm sure she did."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Pintel demanded, facing Groves with a menacing glare.

"Nothing," Groves said quickly, raising his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture. "But I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from tampering with any of the communal rations without my consent, from now on."

Pintel frowned. "Why?"

"The men of my crew are simply accustomed to having pure water to drink, and if we are to be sharing that barrel as a communal water ration, then we must all leave it in such a state that the others find acceptable."

"Are you insultin' us?"

"I am doing nothing of the sort. If you and your men would prefer to drink rum, that is your business, and I would encourage you to proceed. However, you must also allow my men access to their own choice of refreshment. That's all I'm asking."

Ragetti's eyes dropped in apology. "Didn't mean to cause no trouble."

"Of course we didn't cause any trouble!" Pintel exclaimed. "It's his own fault he's too stiff to know what it is to have a bit o' fun."

Ragetti nodded in agreement, his eyes (or, eye) lighting up in response to his companion's words. "No fun," he repeated.

"Come on," Pintel said, turning away. Ragetti followed him.

"I am not no fun," Groves muttered to himself. He frowned after the pirates for a moment, then reminded himself that there were more important concerns, such as the fact that Anamaria had apparently taken it upon herself to make his job as difficult as possible.

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah there's a bit of a side-plot going on here. I really couldn't resist. We'll get back to the main plot in the next chapter. Leave a review, if you don't mind! :)<strong>


	13. Behind Bars

"Come on, mate, look on the bright side," Jack insisted. "Now, we know exactly where the prison is, which will save us the trouble later on of looking for it." He tried to accentuate the encouragement with a wide grin.

Norrington sat idly against the back wall of the cell, glaring at Jack, doubting very much that there was any such "bright side" to having been arrested by Beckett's soldiers.

The East India Trading Company soldiers had brought the intruders to a clearing, in which sat a fortress that looked very out-of-place in the untamed jungle. As they were brought inside, Norrington noted that the fort's defenses were likely impenetrable, and that they never would have made it inside without being shot. The three prisoners had been brought directly to the fort's prison, which reminded Norrington very much of his own prison back in Port Royal, and locked together in a small cell.

Jack had spent the first part of their incarceration staring through the bars at all the other cells in the prison, and then had given up on that and had resorted to pacing back in forth in front of the locked door, talking to himself. Norrington did his best to ignore the pirate, knowing that his dwelling on Jack's involvement in their situation would likely lead to the pirate's murder. Gillette woke up with a pounding headache, but offered no complaint except a muttered curse. He sat in a corner of the cell, cradling his head, and was either oblivious to or ignoring the pirate's antics.

Jack paced across the cell again. He acted as if he had everything under control, but it was clear his mind was racing as he tried to find a solution to their current predicament. He paused and faced Norrington again. "Look, mate, you're just going to have to trust me."

"Trust you," Norrington repeated darkly. "After you've gotten us thrown in prison."

"Just returning the favor," Jack commented. "And if you'll remember, I do have a bit of experience in reversing this very sort of unfortunate situation."

"Meaning that you got lucky and Will Turner freed you."

Jack never missed a beat. "And I have not dismissed the possibility of that very thing happening again," he said, holding up a finger to stop the Commodore's coming protest. "Unlikely, perhaps," he conceded, "but not impossible. After all, who am I?"

"You're a daft pirate with no regard for the needs of others."

Now Jack frowned. "Well..." he faltered. "Who asked you?" He turned away and went back to the cell door to look around. His gaze rested on a ragged man in a cell across the way who was watching the new arrivals with apparent fascination. "Oi, you there!" Jack called, startling the man to rapt attention. "How long've you been in here?"

"'Bout two weeks, sir," the man replied, sounding a bit nervous at having been so directly addressed. "Seems like longer."

"I don't suppose you have any recollection of a fellow by the name of Gibbs who was likely captured near, around, or about the same time as your unfortunate self, eh?"

The man frowned slightly, though it was unclear whether he frowned out of confusion at the pirate's convoluted speech or out of an effort to remember the person of Gibbs.

"Stands near this high," Jack offered, gesturing vaguely to approximate Gibbs' height. "Oldish gent... scruffy, bearded fellow... likes his rum... superstitious fool of a sailor..."

"I remember 'im," the man said, brightening suddenly. "Used to have the cell right next to mine, as a matter of fact." He nodded towards the cell adjoining his own, which was empty.

"Well, where is he now?" Jack demanded.

The man shrugged. "They don't tell us nothin'. He'd been here a while, though, I think longer than most are before they're taken to the gallows."

Jack stared hard at the other prisoner, and Norrington thought he saw the pirate pale slightly, though it was difficult to be sure in the dismal lighting.

"The gallows, you say?" Jack asked. He tried to sound nonchalant, but his voice was strained.

The man nodded. "I been due to meet 'em for days now. Not sure what's takin' so long. Can't say I'm eager to go, but there can't be much what's worse than sittin' in this cell day after day."

"Thank you, most kindly, for your generous divulging of pertinent information," Jack said mechanically. He sank into a sitting position, his face bearing a haunted expression.

"You look troubled," Norrington commented indifferently.

"Am not," Jack argued. "Just hadn't thought of that possibility, is all."

Norrington looked over at the other prisoner. "I don't suppose you know of any other place within this fortress where prisoners are held."

"No, sir," the man answered. "Like I said, they don't tell us nothin'."

"We have to get out of here," Jack said, half to himself. He jumped wildly to his feet and began shaking at the bars. Norrington watched in bemusement as Jack made a persistent, yet futile, attempt at rattling the door's hinges loose.

"Would you stop that?" Gillette finally snapped, glaring at the pirate's back.

Jack stopped and spun around to return the glare.

"You're hurting my head. I feel miserable enough without your incessant racket."

Jack gave the bars one more shake for good measure, then plopped back down on the ground, crossing his arms in frustration. "We're locked in here, gents," he surmised.

"Fancy a prison being used for its intended purpose," Gillette muttered, resting his throbbing head back against the wall.

"Do you have anything helpful to offer?" Jack shot back. "If not, as I gather is the most likely case, do everyone within earshot a favor and, kindly, shut it, savvy?"

"I don't see you making any meaningful progress," Norrington pointed out, partially because it was true, and partially to distract the pirate from harassing Gillette.

"And what are you doing to help the situation?"

"This is your fiasco. You're the one who's dragged us into it."

"There are so many reasonable arguments one could make against that particular statement, however I shall choose only one." Jack paused, apparently for dramatic effect. "We're locked in a prison cell, in case you hadn't noticed, and there's not much I can do about it without any sort of advantageous assets close at hand."

"Well, you're the self-proclaimed infamous Captain Jack Sparrow, aren't you?" Norrington taunted, hinting at a sarcastic smile. "These things ought to be your area of expertise."

"And what are you, an expensive painting? Thought you had to earn the wig."

Norrington rolled his eyes and pulled a small dagger out of its sheath at the back of his belt. "Move," he told Jack.

The pirate didn't have to be told twice, and scurried away from the door. Norrington knelt in front of the door's latch, wedged the knife into the lock, and set to work.

Jack watched with interest. "You've done that before, mate?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No. So you'll have to excuse me if I demand the complete silence necessary to concentrate on the task."

"Apologies," Jack said, putting his palms together and inclining his head slightly. "Proceed. Take your time. But hurry."

* * *

><p><strong>Oh no, are they too late...? Guess you'll just have to tune in next time to find out. ;) Leave a review and let me know what you think!<strong>


	14. From Bad to Worse

"It's no use," Norrington said. He withdrew his knife from the lock, sighing slightly when he noticed that its blade had been scratched and dented.

Jack looked up from where he had been dozing against the back wall. "That's it?" Jack asked, getting to his feet. He crossed the cell and frowned down at Norrington as he sheathed the knife. "You're giving up already?"

"Finally, is more like it," Norrington replied, standing up, and grimacing as his side started hurting again. He sat down in the place Jack had vacated, and leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Your turn, Sparrow."

Jack made a face. "And what options, exactly, am I to explore what haven't already been exhausted by you?"

Norrington looked over at Jack in bemusement. "Well, how did you get out last time?"

"Last time?" Jack repeated, turning away to stoop and inspect the lock. He wiggled his little finger into the lock, pulled it out and licked it, and frowned. "Last time was different."

"How did Turner get you out, then?"

"You'd like to know, wouldn't you?"

Norrington only frowned, though he really was more than a little interested in knowing how, exactly, Turner had managed to break the pirate out of prison without attracting the Commodore's notice.

"Wouldn't work, anyway," Jack muttered, straightening. "No leverage."

Gillette was still sitting in the corner of the cell, resting his head against the wall and observing with mild indifference. "Well, then, I suppose we'll just have to resign ourselves to the fact that your first mate will soon meet the gallows, if he hasn't already, and likely look forward to a similar fate ourselves," he commented.

Jack threw a glare over at the lieutenant. "You're not being very helpful."

"Just returning the favor," Gillette replied. "It's a wonder you - "

"Wait." Jack froze suddenly, his eyes wide. A grin crept across his face, and his posture relaxed. "Beckett can't hang Gibbs," he said confidently, almost laughing, and gesturing dismissively. "Because then he'd never see his - " Jack stopped, catching himself.

Norrington jumped on the hesitation. "His what?"

"Oops."

"Why can't Beckett hang Gibbs?"

Jack shrugged. "Just can't, that's all. Wouldn't be in anyone's best interests."

"In the spirit of serving one's own best interests, Mr. Sparrow, I suggest you do yourself a favor and answer the question."

"I've always admired your persistence, and I for that I shall indulge you." Jack held up both index fingers for a pause. "But not yet. For now, let it suffice to say that - "

There was a loud clang as a door somewhere down the corridor opened and then slammed closed. Footsteps echoed on the stone floor, drawing slowly closer. The prisoner in the opposite cell pressed his face to the bars and peered down the corridor for a moment, then turned to Jack and said, "They're comin' for you. For your questioning."

"Questioning?" Jack repeated.

The man nodded, his eyes wide and still glancing towards the source of the approaching steps. "Everyone's questioned," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "No sense hangin' you before he's seen if you can be of any use."

"Ah," Jack replied. He turned to face Norrington and Gillette. "See, then? No worries. Just let me do the talking."

Gillette rolled his eyes. "You're going to save us? You couldn't even get us out of this cell."

Jack was spared the effort of coming up with a fitting retort when two uniformed guards stopped in front of their cell. The door screeched on its hinges, and Gillette winced. The guards stared down at the prisoners with menacing indifference.

Jack greeted them with a grin. "Hello, my good men," he ventured. "If you're looking for which of us what holds the power of bargaining and extending useful services, that'd be me, though I'd be much obliged if you'd - "

"Quiet," one of the guard barked. "You're all comin' with us. Lord Beckett likes to welcome the guests in person."

The other guard chuckled.

"Come on," the first ordered, gesturing with his rifle.

Norrington hesitated, exchanging a glance with Gillette. The guard grunted impatiently, and they obeyed. Gillette steadied himself against the wall for a moment, still a bit unsteady due to the blow to his head, but then he nodded that he was all right and followed Norrington out of the cell.

The three prisoners were led down the narrow corridor by the first guard and followed by the second. Norrington tried to ignore the stares of the prisoners in the surrounding cells as they made their way through the long walkway. He reflected that a face-to-face meeting with Cutler Beckett was probably the absolute last item on his list of desirable activities, and even thought that the gallows would be a more pleasant experience. Hadn't he agreed to join Sparrow on this absurd rescue mission in order to avoid that very thing? He threw a glance of displeasure over at Jack.

Jack only replied with that infuriating grin of his, and mouthed the words, "No worries, mate."

Norrington only looked away, thinking that if, by some miracle, they managed to escape this imprisonment, he would love to have the satisfaction of arresting Jack again, himself.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the wait. This probably wasn't quite worth it, but thanks for reading! I hope you'll all stick with me. Reviews are appreciated! :)<strong>


	15. Compromise

Lieutenant Groves was sitting under a tree just behind the hut, facing out towards the ocean so that he could just barely see the water. It was a pleasant spot, he found, where he could distantly hear the waves, and be shaded from the harsh sun while still feeling the warmth of the afternoon. He closed his eyes, and lost track of time.

"Lieutenant?"

Groves opened his eyes again when he heard Briggs' voice, and blinked against the bright sun, which was much lower in the sky than he remembered. He squinted up at Briggs, a bit disoriented. "What time is it?"

"About suppertime, sir," Briggs replied.

"Was I asleep?"

Briggs nodded.

"Sorry. Apparently I'm tired." He stood up, with the help of the tree. "I suppose it's about time I rejoined everyone else. Is that what you've come to tell me?"

"Well..." Briggs hesitated. "Your presence would be... advantageous."

"What's going on?"

"Just a small conflict of interest with the pirates."

Groves sighed. "I should have known it would only be a matter of time."

The dispute was centered around one of the huts. Several sailors stood in the doorway, facing a group of pirates, and surrounded by a confused mass of sailors. Most of the men on both sides had weapons drawn, and all were shouting threats at each other.

Groves stood back several feet and watched the chaos in mild horror. "What on earth is going on here?"

"Seems everyone thinks he's got a claim to this hut, sir," Briggs replied. "I'm not sure how it all started."

"The Commodore's going to kill me," Groves muttered. He pulled out his pistol and fired it into the air, silencing the fighting. All heads, Navy and pirate, turned to face him. "What, exactly, is the trouble?" Groves demanded.

There was a small pause while the men looked at each other, and then several of them started talking at once.

"No," Groves said, holding up his hand for silence. "Not like that." He gestured with his pistol to the man standing nearest to him. "You, speak. Explain this."

The sailor was momentarily startled, and shrank slightly from the pistol, but forced himself to recover in time to respond to the question. "Well, sir, a few of the men were just resting in their lodgings, this hut here, and some of the... you know, Sparrow's crew... they came and said that this hut was theirs and tried to force the men out."

"Oh, you tell a fine story!" one of the pirates shouted, shoving his way through the crowd. It was the same fat pirate who had been involved in the water ration incident. He scowled at the sailors, but put on a fake smile for Groves. "Seems you failed to give your men word that this hut was to be ours from now on. No fault of ours. Just a misunderstanding, see?"

Groves frowned. "And who told you that this hut is yours?"

The fat pirate rolled his eyes. "Who do you think? Anamaria, of course. Said you told her your men would be lettin' us have one of our huts back, as a peaceable gesture, seein' as they's ours in the first place."

"That's all nonsense!" a sailor shouted from the hut. "Why would we do something like that, especially once the Commodore put in all the time of dividing the camp?"

Groves bit back a sigh. "Clearly a small misunderstanding has reached epidemic status."

The fat pirate crossed his arms menacingly. "Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"A compromise," Groves said. "Whichever party takes the hut will be in charge of supper preparations for the remainder of our stay here. You decide."

The pirate scowled. His expression was matched by grumbles and protests from the other pirates behind him. "Fine," the fat pirate said. "Keep your hut. See if I care." He turned and walked away, and was quickly followed by the other pirates.

The crowd of sailors was immediately in better spirits, and began to disperse.

"Now just a minute," Groves called. "The lot of you will be responsible for cleanup after meals for the rest of our stay here. Anyone who complains or starts any further trouble with Sparrow's crew will also find himself taking double watch shifts."

Any grumbling immediately ceased, and the sailors slipped quietly away.

Groves faced the men who stood in the hut's doorway, their swords still drawn. "I want to see the three of you in my hut," he said, in a tone that clearly indicated his displeasure at having to deal with the trouble they'd caused. "I expect a detailed explanation as to why weapons were necessary to settle such a simple dispute, and I would also like to hear any reasons why I should not give your names to the Commodore when he returns for your disobedience of his direct order to maintain peaceful relations with the pirates."

* * *

><p><strong>Short-ish chapter, and I know you were probably a little more curious about Beckett's interrogation. But it's coming, I promise. :) Feedback is always appreciated!<strong>


	16. Interrogation

The man behind the desk smirked when the three prisoners were escorted into his office. He nodded to the guards and they retreated from the room, closing and locking the large set of double doors as they went.

Norrington studied the man's expressionless features. "Lord Beckett, I presume," he said blandly.

Beckett faced him, but didn't rise from where he was sitting. "And you are...?"

"No one," Jack interrupted, stepping forward. He waved his arms dismissively. "They're no one. Especially him." He gestured to Gillette. "Just a couple of ragamuffins I happened to bump into on me way in."

"Ah." Beckett looked past Jack and studied the two officers. "Is that how it happened, Commodore?" he asked, reading the rank off Norrington's uniform.

"More or less," Norrington replied.

"There's no Navy port on this island."

"So I noticed."

Beckett raised an eyebrow slightly, clearly waiting for a more detailed explanation.

Norrington resisted the invitation. "Our presence here was unintentional," he said vaguely. "We were only looking for a settlement that could offer us shelter and provisions when your men accosted us."

"See?" Jack interjected. "They're no one. Now that we've got that cleared up, I think we ought to address the matter at hand, shall we?"

"And what matter would that be, Sparrow?" Beckett replied.

Jack leaned on Beckett's desk with both hands, looking fiercely into the man's face. "What have you done with Gibbs?"

"That depends. What have you done with my map?"

Jack took an unconscious step away from the desk. "What map?"

"That's what I thought." Beckett looked up and began to motion to the guards.

"Oh, that map," Jack said, halting the guards. "Actually the map in question is exactly the thing I wanted to talk to you about. Concerning its pending return to its rightful owner, that is, and the unique circumstances that must be in place in order for such a thing to happen."

"What have you done with it?" Beckett asked again.

"The question is not, what have I done with it. The question is, what has been done to it that is in no way my fault or in connection with any negligent action of mine. And actually, the best question is_, _where has it been taken and by whom, to which I shall have to respond that I haven't the foggiest."

"Then we're back where we started. You will all be punished for trespassing."

Jack stepped back up to the desk. "I can get it back," he insisted. "You know I can. I've got a ship and a crew..." He gestured to Norrington and Gillette. "So all I really need is a first mate."

"That wasn't the agreement. Your first mate will be returned to you when you return my map."

Norrington frowned at Jack. "Agreement?" He was ignored.

"Bring me my map, Sparrow," Beckett continued. "Don't come back here again until you have it."

"At least let me take these two fine gentlemen with me," Jack persisted, once again pointing to Norrington and Gillette. "I can't hardly sail without a crew to assist me."

"And yet, you somehow managed to make it this far."

"Well, yes, but - "

"I'll tell you what. Wait outside, and perhaps these men and I can reach some sort of mutually satisfactory arrangement."

Jack hesitated, throwing a nervous glance over at Norrington, but then grinned at Beckett and allowed the guard to lead him out of the room.

Beckett smiled humorlessly, but pleasantly, at the two men. "I see no reason not to take you at your word, that you have, through some unfortunate set of circumstances, have been stranded on this island, that you came to this fortress with the honest intention of seeking assistance, and that you have no prior relation with the man who just left."

No response seemed necessary, or appropriate, so Norrington remained silent.

"Jack Sparrow," Beckett continued, standing. He moved deliberately to the window behind his desk and absently gazed out at the jungle. "Or, Captain Jack Sparrow, as he likes to call himself. I don't suppose you've heard of him?"

"I have," Norrington replied cautiously. "Responsible for the theft of the _HMS Reverie's_ helm, is he not?"

"Allegedly." Beckett turned back around. "He did, however, make off with a certain map, a personal favorite of mine, and has, of yet, failed to return it. I had hoped by capturing Sparrow's first mate I could encourage him to bring back what he has stolen, but it seems he still needs a bit more incentive."

"What are you asking us to do?"

The corner of Beckett's mouth twitched slightly, as if he approved of the Commodore's desire to get right to the point. "I want you to accompany Sparrow, as he requested. Assist him in retrieving my map, and see that both end up back here."

Norrington watched Beckett carefully, trying to see past the cold, impassive exterior in order to sense some of the man's motives. "And why should two members of the King's Navy assist a notorious pirate in the act of piracy?"

"To ensure that this act is his last," Beckett answered. "When he returns, I intend to have him hanged for the crimes he has committed. The two of you, of course, will be pardoned any involvement in this quest. I will personally see to it that you and your fine lieutenant are transported to whichever Naval base you choose and receive commendation for your service to the East India Trading Company and to the crown. And you will, of course, forever have my gratitude for your assistance in stopping such a notorious criminal."

Norrington sensed a warning in Beckett's words, as if the promise were actually meant as a threat. They certainly implied that to refuse would be an act of disloyalty to the Company, the King, and a personal affront to Lord Beckett himself.

"We will find your map," Norrington said. "And we will see that Sparrow is caught."

Beckett smiled icily. "Excellent."

* * *

><p><strong>Hmm... Interesting. I hope I'm writing Beckett realistically enough... He's sorta tricky and I've only ever written him in my parody, which is the farthest thing from a realistic portrayal of anything. Feedback is appreciated! :)<strong>


	17. Charting a Course

Norrington sat at the stern of the longboat, staring hard at Jack and brooding over the brief meeting with Lord Beckett. He had agreed to go along with Beckett's scheme because it seemed the only option at the time. Beckett was cold and cryptic, and Norrington couldn't quite bring himself to trust the man. He certainly didn't trust Jack Sparrow, either, but he and Gillette would have to help find Beckett's map if they wanted assistance from either Sparrow or Beckett.

The longbboat reached the _Black Pearl_, and Jack stood up enthusiastically, rocking the boat and nearly tipping it. He started to climb up onto the ship, but paused when he noticed that neither Norrington or Gillette was following him. "Come on, then," Jack said impatiently. "Haven't got all day."

"I'd like an explanation, Sparrow, before I follow you any further on this insane mission," Norrington replied.

Jack hesitated. "What's there to explain?"

"You traded your first mate for a map."

"Did not."

"That's certainly what it sounded like to me," Gillette commented.

"You stay out of it," Jack ordered, frowning at the lieutenant.

Norrington would have stood up to threaten Sparrow into submission had the boat not already been rocking precariously. Instead he just frowned dangerously at the pirate. "The truth, Sparrow," he demanded. "I've had about enough of you and your games. Your first mate wasn't captured. You gave him as payment."

Jack sighed, defeated, and dropped back into the longboat.

"What sort of a map is worth such a price?" Gillette asked, with mingled disgust and incredulity.

"First of all," Jack began, holding up both index fingers, "Gibbs was not payment. More like collateral, if you will, a security to ensure that I would return the map to its self-proclaimed rightful owner."

"That's barbaric," Gillette commented, earning himself an irritated glance from Jack.

"It's barbaric that you actually seem to enjoy wearing that wig," the pirate retorted.

"What's so special about this map, that you were, I'm sure, forced, to leave your first mate in exchange for borrowing it?" Norrington asked.

"It's like the compass," Jack said. "Unique." With that, he seemed to feel that the conversation had come to a close, and stood once again to climb aboard the _Pearl_. "You coming?" he called over his shoulder. "Or do you intend to row yourselves all the way to Tortuga?"

"Tortuga?" Gillette repeated, throwing a look of disbelief to Norrington.

Norrington only rolled his eyes, and, knowing he wasn't going to get any more information, grudgingly followed the pirate. Jack left Norrington and Gillette in charge of hoisting the longboat and raising the anchor, while he sauntered across the deck, following the lead of his compass as he took the ship's wheel.

"Tortuga?" Gillette asked again, persistently implying that he had extreme reservations about following a pirate into the most lawless port in the Caribbean. "Just because we're working for Lord Beckett now doesn't make that place any more desirable a destination."

"We're not working for Beckett," Norrington argued.

Gillette raised an eyebrow.

"However, we are expected to return with the map, and with Sparrow, so if that requires a voyage to Tortuga, then so be it."

"You're not going to tell him, are you?" Gillette asked. "That we are, in effect, spies for the Company?"

Norrington glanced over at Jack, who was frowning at the compass and adjusting the ship's course. "I don't see how that would be in anyone's best interests," he replied. He looked back to Gillette. "Sparrow is a pirate and a wanted criminal. We owe him no loyalty. Despite my reservations, the East India Trading Company is our ally."

"Of course, sir," Gillette said. "I didn't mean to imply anything else." He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I think I'd better lie down for a while. I've still got a headache."

Norrington nodded, and Gillette disappeared below. The Commodore then turned his attention to watching the pirate captain. The compass had been put away, and now Jack stood resolutely at the wheel, staring off at the horizon and squinting in the intense light of the setting sun.

Norrington approached the helm, and attracted Jack's gaze.

"Commodore," Jack called, grinning.

Norrington frowned slightly in response to the enthusiastic greeting.

"Where's that chatterbox of a lieutenant?"

"Resting."

"Ah, so it's just you and me, then, is it?"

Norrington sighed, thinking he might prefer if it were just _him_.

"No worries, mate," Jack flashed a grin which Norrington supposed was intended to be reassuring. "Before this time tomorrow, we'll be in Tortuga. Lovely little place, though it is a bit of an acquired taste, I suppose."

"It's a vile nest of thieves and murderers," Norrington replied. "I don't particularly look forward to setting foot in such a place, but I shall indulge you only because it seems the fate of my crew is dependent upon your returning this "unique" map to Lord Beckett."

"I'd very much appreciate it."

Norrington stifled another sigh and glanced out over the water. The sky was perfectly clear and the sun perfectly bright, so that he had to blink against the sharp orange glow in order to see how far away the horizon was.

Jack was talking again. "Norrington, mate, just one more thing..."

Norrington looked back to the pirate in mild annoyance.

Jack offered a nervous laugh and a halfheartedly apologetic toss of his hands. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you can hardly waltz into Tortuga dressed like that." He gestured to the Commodore's uniform, hat, and wig. "To be completely honest, it might be better to paint a target on your back and start handing out loaded pistols and rum." Jack grinned to himself and gazed absently up at the cooling sky. "Lots of rum. Rum is good."

Norrington glanced down at himself, knowing that the pirate was right about his and Gillette's attire. Officers of the Royal Navy would hardly be welcome in the free port of Tortuga. He walked away, leaving Jack to daydream of rum, and thought blandly that he wouldn't mind a bit for himself.

* * *

><p><strong>The Tortuga thing literally came to me as I was writing "...row yourselves all the way to..." and I thought it could be fun. I hope this chapter wasn't too boring, but, hey, at least you have something to look forward to. ;) Your comments are always appreciated!<strong>


	18. Peacemaking

Dusk fell on the little village. Groves had spent nearly an hour with the men who had started the fight, listening as they tried to convince him that their aggression had been justified, and then explaining to them in return why it was absolutely necessary to maintain peace with the pirates. He let them off with a stern warning, mostly because he guessed the Commodore would be in a less-than-gracious mood when he returned and would not appreciate having to deal with disciplinary matters, but also because Groves felt that the trouble with the pirates was mostly his own fault.

Anamaria was sitting on the ground outside her hut, cleaning her pistol with a rag. Groves made his way over to her, trying not to wince with every step, and hoped that the pistol wasn't loaded. Anamaria made a point to ignore the lieutenant until he was standing directly in front of her, then she glanced up and greeted him with an unwelcoming, "What?"

Groves responded with a polite and, he hoped, penitent smile. "Good evening."

"What do you want?"

"I've come to apologize," he said, hoping he sounded sincere and contrite enough. "I was not as tactful as I should have been when I spoke to you earlier. I admit I was influenced by my own prejudices about your crew, and pirates in general, in anticipating unprovoked violence from you. You must understand I know nothing of pirates, save for what I have seen of those I have fought or captured, and I suppose allowances can be made in those cases for the hostility they expressed against me and my comrades."

Groves paused. Anamaria was still just watching him, frowning slightly, but offering nothing resembling an opinion of his words. She didn't seem like she was going to shoot him, though, so he continued. "From what I have observed of your crew, just in this day alone, I now realize that my earlier fears were entirely unfair and unfounded. Your men are hardworking, obedient, and reasonable men. I suppose the only difference between us is our interpretation of the law, and seeing as there's no law to govern us here, I'm perfectly willing to set that difference aside so that we can be equals. For now."

He hesitated again, still watching Anamaria for some sort of response. Her face was still set in indifference. Better indifference than hostility, Groves thought, and he decided it was safe enough to finish. "I must ask, however, that if you have any argument with me, that you take it to me directly, rather than turning against my men," he concluded, cautiously. "It isn't fair that they should suffer from my poor judgment."

Anamaria studied his face for a moment, then went back to cleaning the pistol, clearly indicating that the conversation was over.

"Have a pleasant evening," Groves said, as politely as he could. He made his way back to his hut, feeling tired and defeated after seeing his apology and attempt at restoring peace ignored. His ankle hurt, and his entire body needed rest. He lay down on his cot, set his foot up on a pillow, and closed his eyes, wishing Sparrow would hurry up and bring the Commodore back.

* * *

><p>The next morning dawned overcast, and the air threatened rain. Groves sat outside his hut, as usual, grateful that it was already mid-morning and there had been no incidents to disturb the peace. He was enjoying the quiet, until he thought that it might be a bit too quiet. The men were bored and lethargic with nothing to do. They needed some sort of organized activity to keep them from going mad.<p>

Groves tensed slightly when he saw Anamaria approaching him, but he greeted her with a nod and a polite, "Good morning."

She barely acknowledged his greeting. Instead she knelt in front of his injured ankle, which was propped up on a stool, and started to remove the lieutenant's boot.

"Excuse me, what - "

"How did you hurt it?" she asked.

"I... I fell," Groves replied, still startled by the woman's actions. "Tripped down a flight of stairs."

Anamaria shot him a quizzical glance.

Groves sighed. "We were being attacked, and at that particular moment my footing was the least of my concerns."

Anamaria just shook her head indifferently and pulled the lieutenant's stocking off so that she could examine his ankle. She frowned slightly, and pressed gently on the swollen areas.

Groves winced. "That doesn't feel very good," he commented.

Anamaria released his ankle and sat back on her heels. "It's not broken," she told him. "It might've healed already if you'd let it rest."

"I..." He started to make some excuse, but gave up when he realized that she wasn't listening and probably didn't care anyway.

Anamaria took several long strips of cloth out of the satchel at her side and used them to firmly bind Groves' injured ankle and foot, stabilizing the joint, then handed him a crude wooden crutch. She stood up and crossed her arms, regarding the lieutenant with a mild frown. "Quit walking on it, understand?"

Groves could only nod in response.

"Good. You'll feel better in a few days."

"Thank you," he said, still confused.

Anamaria turned around and started to leave.

"Wait, just a moment," Groves called, and she paused and looked back. "I never asked how I should properly address you."

She looked at him for a moment. "Anamaria," she finally answered, shrugging. "Never been called anything else."

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you liked this. :) We'll get to Tortuga soon enough. Thanks for reading!<strong>


	19. Women of Tortuga

"Tortuga!" Jack proclaimed, spreading his arms towards the town and grinning broadly.

Night had just fallen, and the town was coming to life. Noisy, drunken life. Music and loud singing could be heard from inside a nearby tavern, shouting and fighting from another. In several places the celebrating and the brawling spilled out into the streets.

Gillette frowned in disgust. "This place is an abhorrence."

"Not even your petty negativity will ruin my good spirits," Jack replied. He turned to face the two officers. "I don't anticipate any trouble, but just in case, it's probably best to let me do the talking, should the need for talking arise, savvy?"

"I wouldn't dream of stealing your spotlight," Norrington replied.

"Oh good." Jack grinned pleasantly, then frowned slightly at the Commodore, apparently studying his face. "I don't suppose there's any chance you'll be recognized, is there?"

Norrington sighed. "I don't suppose there's any chance of nothing going wrong tonight, is there?" he replied. He and Gillette were already dressed in old, filthy clothes that had been found on the _Black Pearl._ The fit was questionable, and Norrington had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to hide the fact that they were a good four inches too short. He tried to ignore the smell, and the possible explanations for why there were extra sets of used clothing lying around on the pirate's ship.

Jack glanced around, swiped a hat off a nearby sleeping drunkard, and set it on the Commodore's head. "There. Best not to take any chances."

Norrington frowned, but made sure the hat was pulled low enough to obscure his features. "Satisfied?"

Jack shrugged. "Adequately."

"Jack Sparrow!" a female voice cried.

Jack spun around and found himself face-to-face with a skinny, gaudily-clad wench. "Scarlett, I've been looking everywhere for - "

"You lied to me!" the woman accused, and accentuated her complaint by slapping the pirate across the face.

Jack winced, but couldn't resist the opportunity to try to talk himself out of trouble. "Lied?" he chuckled. "Did not. Obfuscated, perhaps, but never - "

"You!" another woman shouted.

"Ah, Giselle!" Jack exclaimed. "Been too long since - "

He was interrupted by another slap. "Yarn, two marbles, and a piece of driftwood?" Giselle fumed. "That's what you call proper payment?"

"Better than what I got," Scarlett replied. "All he left me was half a button and an empty bottle!"

Norrington watched in mild amusement as Jack tried to make amends. Jack put on his most endearing grin and spread his arms apologetically. "Allow me to explain. You see, I was drunk, and at the time all those things seemed very dear to - "

A slap from Scarlett. "When aren't you drunk?"

A slap from Giselle. "Next time, you'll pay up front."

"Stop it!" Jack held up his hands to protect himself from further attack. "You're jumbling my thoughts around, and I am going to be needing them in a straight and proper order tonight!"

The two ladies turned up their noses and started to walk away. Giselle paused next to Gillette and looked him over, a tantalizing smirk on her face. "This one's cute," she said. She poked his arm. "And strong, too."

A bit of color crept into the lieutenant's face, and he pulled away.

"Too bad I have a prior commitment," Scarlett commented.

"Yes, shoo," Jack insisted, waving the girls away. They scowled at him, then sauntered off, deftly avoiding the stray punches thrown by drunken brawlers. Jack frowned at Gillette, who was still blushing and staring after the two women in apparent shock. "Quit your leering," Jack said, pouting. "I think I'm going to be nauseous."

Norrington rolled his eyes.

"Come on then," Jack insisted, snapping out of his pout and right back into his enthusiastic confidence. He started down one of the shadier alleys nearby. "This way!"

Jack led the way down the alley, to a door that was nearly hidden by its surroundings. Jack opened the door and peeked inside, looked around for a moment, then nodded for Norrington and Gillette to follow him inside. Behind the door was a tiny, cramped space lit dimly by a few candles. Jack crept farther into the room. "Hello?" he called, hesitantly.

Norrington instinctively put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Jack took another step into the darkness. "Ruby, it's - "

"Who's there?" a female voice hissed.

Jack stepped backwards into the light, his hands raised in a peaceful gesture. "It's only me, love."

The source of the voice followed him, a small young woman with a pale face and lively eyes. She held a pistol pointed at the pirate's chest, but began to lower it when the feeble candle's made Jack's face clear. Then she glanced past him. "And who are they?" she demanded, raising the pistol again.

"Comrades of mine, if you will, or at least temporary allies."

The woman, Ruby, hesitated for a moment, then put the pistol back in her belt. She shrugged apologetically to Norrington and Gillette. "Sorry about that," she said. "The last person who came through that door was planning to loot and burn the place."

"I promise, we're not here to hurt you," Norrington assured her.

"See?" Jack added. "No worries. Now, as much as I do enjoy seeing you, and it has been far too long since I have, love, I must speak with your father. Is he here?" Jack looked around as if to demonstrate his desire to find the girl's father.

"Yes," Ruby answered slowly. "Upstairs. I'll see if he's available. You can sit down if you like." She gestured to an old sofa and several wooden chairs, all standing around a knee-high little table. She smiled kindly. "I'll be right back." She moved to the base of a rickety staircase, nearly hidden in the dark corner of the room, and paused. "May I ask what this visit is about?"

"A map," Jack replied. "He'll know the one."

Ruby disappeared up the stairs, making each step creak as she went.

Jack plopped down on the sofa and grinned up at Norrington. "See? No problem at all. I'll just explain the situation which requires me to have the map returned, offer fair compensation for the aforementioned article, and we'll be out of here before you can say Lord Bloody-Cheating-Scoundrel Cutler Beckett."

Gillette sighed and sat down in one of the chairs. "That would certainly be a pleasant surprise."

Ruby returned, carrying a pot and three wooden bowls. "My father's finishing a bit of work from today, but he won't be long," she said, setting the pot down on the table. "Help yourselves to some stew."

"Don't mind if I do," Jack replied. He eagerly snatched one of the bowls and filled it, then sat back down to eat.

Norrington wanted to decline, having no knowledge of this woman and whether or not she could be trusted, but the delicious smell was making it difficult to ignore his empty stomach. Apparently meals aboard the _Black Pearl_ were sporadic when the cook wasn't there to prepare them. Norrington gratefully accepted the bowl of stew he was offered, giving Ruby a nod of thanks.

Ruby vanished again, briefly, and returned with three goblets of wine, which she distributed to the three men. Then she frowned towards the stairs. "Perhaps I'd better check on him. I'll just be a moment." Ruby went back up the stairs.

Jack stretched out on the sofa and began humming a dull, repetitive tavern tune. Norrington drank his wine and tried to ignore Jack completely. The wine helped him relax, and soon he even allowed the optimistic thought to cross his mind that just maybe he and his crew could be on their way back to Port Royal the day after tomorrow.

Jack's humming had turned into singing, and the obnoxious tune was making Norrington's temples hurt. He sighed, and shared an irritated glance with Gillette, wondering vaguely which of them would run out of patience first.

It was Gillette. "Sparrow, you're giving me a headache," he snapped. His speech slurred slightly.

Norrington turned to frown at his lieutenant, wondering how just a bit of wine could have such a strong effect already. His vision blurred momentarily as he moved his head. Norrington blinked and frowned into his own goblet, and the room blurred again as he opened his eyes. In mild alarm he realized that he was leaning against the wall to keep himself from swaying.

"Fine," Jack muttered, sitting up. "No appreciation for healthy joviality. Just trying to lighten the mood a bit." He reached for the third goblet, still sitting on the table.

"Sparrow, don't," Norrington ordered. "It's poisoned."

"Don't worry," said a male voice from the staircase. "It won't kill you. But you may want to have a seat before you fall and hurt yourself."

Norrington sank to the floor against the wall, wondering in mild despair how he could have let Sparrow lead him and Gillette into a trap. With his fading vision he saw Gillette slumped over in his chair, while Jack still sat on the sofa in mid-reach, staring at the goblet in mild shock. Norrington turned towards the man at the stairs and tried to make out his face and his next words, but the world faded too quickly.

* * *

><p><strong>Long chapter this time. I had fun putting it together. Hope you enjoyed it!<strong>


	20. Behind Bars, Again

Norrington was vaguely aware of a rough fabric against his face. Through the pounding in his head he was able to detect a gentle rocking sensation. He opened his eyes and saw that he, Sparrow, and Gillette were surrounded by metal bars. Gillette was retching into a metal basin in a corner of the cell, while Sparrow sat passively against the bars, watching the lieutenant in mild disgust. Norrington closed his eyes again, feeling nauseous and almost bad enough to wish the poison had been lethal. He used the metal bars of the cell to drag himself upright, and rested his head in his hands.

"Ah, Commodore!" Jack exclaimed, sliding across the floor to join Norrington. "You look positively dreadful."

"I may vomit," Norrington muttered.

"Oh." Jack moved back to the other side of the cell.

Norrington drew in a few deep breaths, until his stomach stopped churning, then lifted his head to face the other two. "Am I correct in assuming we're on a ship?" he asked.

"Can't put anything past you, mate," Jack replied. "We are, indeed, on a ship."

"Have you any idea where we're headed?"

"Not a clue."

Norrington glared at Jack, making no effort to mask his irritation. "Is there anything you can tell me?"

Jack hopped to his feet and peered out the small porthole window, twisting his head and squinting at the sky. "It's nearly noon," the pirate declared, turning back around. "We've been underway since midnight. And, while you and the lieutenant were passed out during that intermittent period, I've been doing my best to assess our present situation."

"And how long did it take you to figure out that we're locked up - again?" Gillette asked. He was leaning pitifully against the corner of the cell, though he still managed to glare daggers at the back of the pirate's head.

"Not long at all, actually," Jack replied good-naturedly. He paced across the cell. "Especially since I was un-unconscious enough to watch the locking happen."

"You talked yourself out of being poisoned?" Norrington asked. He was prepared to hate Jack even more if that were the case.

"Didn't have to. You'll have to forgive dear Ruby. She didn't want to cause any trouble, but it was her father what ordered her to do it. Found me still awake, opted to simply blindfold me and make me help carry the bloody lieutenant." Jack threw a scowl at Gillette. "A couple more days without food would do you some good, mate."

"Don't worry. I'm not hungry," Gillette replied.

"In any case, Darius has assured me that he means us no harm," Jack continued, though there was a bitter note in his voice. "Seems someone will be wanting us all in our three respective one pieces when he meets us."

"What does that mean?" Norrington demanded.

"Apparently, Darius only wanted the map so he could sell it. Well, sell it he did, and the person to whom he sold it to..." Jack paused and frowned. "The person to whom it has been sold? The person whom he selled it upon?"

"What about him?"

Jack shook his head, as if to dispel his own confusion. "Anyway. This person, this other buyer of the map, had and or has apparently requested the capture and delivery of the map's original source, which, in Darius's limited knowledge is, unfortunately, none other than the one and only Captain Jack Sparrow." Jack hesitated, glancing from the commodore to Gillette. "And his, er, companions," Jack added.

"Sparrow, do you realize that we could kill you now and fear no legal repercussions?" Gillette said.

"Can't. They took all the weapons."

"We could strangle you."

Jack grimaced slightly. "You wouldn't."

"Don't push your luck," Norrington muttered. He had considered standing up to get a better look at the surroundings of the brig, but the splitting pain in his head made him reconsider. He lay back down on the blanket instead, seeing no reason to pretend he wasn't feeling awful.

"No worries, mates," Jack said, in his best optimistic voice. "I'm sure this is all some great misunderstanding which we shall all laugh about later. I'll have everything cleared up before you know it, just let me do the talking."

"No," Norrington said. He cracked an eye open and looked over at Sparrow. He realized he probably didn't appear particularly intimidating from where he lay on the floor, but he didn't care. "From now on, you don't talk. At all. Do I make myself clear?"

Jack's face fell submissively, and he sat down against the bars. "Inescapably," he muttered.

* * *

><p><strong>Short chapter. You can average it with the previous one if you like. ;) This may be the last quick update for a while... classes started, and I have seven of them. Hope you're still intrigued - feedback is appreciated! :)<strong>


	21. Degrees of Allegiance

A day later, Groves' ankle was already feeling better. The swelling had gone down, and the sharp pain that had once accompanied small movements was now replaced by a mild ache. He didn't dare try walking on it yet, though, partially because he didn't want to injure it again, but mostly because he was afraid of how Anamaria would react if she found out he ignored her instructions to rest it. He spent most of his time sitting outside his hut, sometimes under a nearby tree for shade, and watched his men and the pirates go about their daily activities.

The pirates and the Navy sailors regarded each other with less hostility ever since Anamaria had accepted the lieutenant's apology. Boredom was evident on both sides, and Groves sensed that the pirates weren't used to such a stretch of idleness either. Soon the two crews began to mingle more, just to have new faces to talk to, though the interactions remained guarded.

Groves was growing bored of watching bored sailors and bored pirates do nothing all day, so he gave himself the task of coming up with some sort of structured activity for the men to perform. Looking around at the huts, he noticed that none looked particularly well-kept, with many having holes in their roofs or having unstable walls propped up from the outside with tree branches.

During the evening meal, Briggs brought Groves a plate of food, to save the lieutenant from trying to juggle both the plate and his crutch. Groves thanked him sheepishly, feeling awkward about being waited on, and then presented his idea. "If I've observed correctly," Groves began. "It seems that the men are growing a bit... stir-crazy."

"A bit," Briggs repeated dryly.

"I think it would be good if we could channel all our nervous energy into something productive, so I've come up with a project. Do you think the men would find that agreeable?"

"I'm sure they would, sir."

Groves pointed to one of the huts that was in particularly bad condition. "These huts are in dire need of repair," he said. "If Anamaria agrees, we can start work on patching them up tomorrow morning."

Briggs eyed the hut dubiously. "Repairing the pirate huts, sir?"

"Unless you've got something better."

Briggs shrugged. "I suppose it's better than nothing. Shouldn't be too hard."

"If you can't handle a bit of patchwork, I think the Commodore will feel he's done something wrong."

"True enough. I'll let Anamaria know you're wanting to speak with her."

When Groves presented the idea to Anamaria, she looked at him strangely, then observed the nearest hut for a moment, and finally looked back at Groves. "I haven't got any objection," she said. "It just won't do any good."

Groves frowned. "Why not?"

"We can't stay here now that the Navy knows about it." She paused. "Too bad, really. It's a good spot."

"Oh," Groves said, unable to think of a more appropriate response. He thought of asking if she thought they'd move the settlement to another place, just to make conversation, but then reconsidered. It was probably better if he didn't know the answer to that question.

"But if your men need a bit of work to do, they're free to do whatever they like," Anamaria concluded. "We've got a few building supplies you can use. Just ask."

"Thank you," Groves said, marveling slightly at her generosity. "We'll try not to bother you too much."

She nodded blankly. "How's your ankle?" she asked, glancing down at the lieutenant's foot.

"Still sore, but better today." He hesitated. "Thank you again for... for taking care of it."

Anamaria shrugged. "Don't mention it."

"If there's anything else you'd like the men to help with around here, you can just, you know, ask."

"I will," she said. She met his eyes for a moment, then turned and walked away to rejoin the pirates on their side of the camp.

* * *

><p>Norrington managed to sleep throughout most of the afternoon, and when he woke up the dark orange light of the sunset was casting itself into the cell. He was feeling better, though he was a little stiff from lying on a hard floor for hours. He stood up and stretched, and a small pain in his side reminded him of the slash wound that hadn't quite healed yet. Sparrow was dozing in a corner of the cell, and Gillette was sitting against the opposite corner, staring idly at nothing in particular.<p>

The Commodore shared a glance with his lieutenant. "Have we had any visitors?" Norrington asked.

"None that I'm aware of," Gillette said. "I haven't been awake much."

"Are you feeling all right?"

"I am now." Gillette stood up, throwing a glance of disgust in Jack's direction. "I hope I'm not out of line, but I can't help thinking we might be in over our heads."

Norrington sighed. "Perhaps we can talk this Darius into releasing the two of us. We're of no interest to him."

"What about the map?"

"If we can convince Darius to give us transportation, the map will be none of our concern."

"For a price, no doubt."

"Yes. It seems no one does anything out of human decency anymore. At least not in this pirate's world."

Norrington and Gillette turned when they heard footsteps coming down a flight of stairs towards them. Ruby appeared, carrying a tray, and approached the cell. The two officers watched her with mild disdain.

Ruby managed to force a hesitant smile. "I brought you all some supper," she said. "You haven't eaten all day."

"Haven't exactly felt like it," Gillette muttered.

Ruby dropped her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for the effects to last so long." She looked up again. "But my father and I - we can't disobey Mr. Crane. He'll ruin us if we do."

Norrington refused to feel any sympathy for the girl.

"Anyway, there's bread here, and some salted pork," Ruby said, glancing at the tray. "And water."

"I'm sure you'll forgive us if we don't feel particularly inclined to accept any more food from you," Norrington said.

Ruby frowned slightly. "Now that you're locked up, what would be the sense in poisoning you again?"

Norrington kept his gaze even, reminding himself of the miserable headache and upset stomach that had resulted from his last moment of weakness.

Ruby sighed in exasperation and set the tray on the ground. Very deliberately, she took a drink from the water pitcher and a bite from the loaf of bread. Then she stood and crossed her arms. "Satisfied?" she asked indignantly.

Norrington hesitated a moment, then nodded once.

She turned to go.

"I'd like to speak with your father," Norrington said, halting her. "I have a proposition for him."

Ruby frowned slightly, narrowing her wide eyes. "What sort of proposition?"

"I'd prefer to speak with him directly."

Ruby sighed. "All right, I'll talk to him. No guarantees." She gestured at the tray, still sitting on the floor. "Supper's there if you want it." Then she left, pausing only once at the base of the stairs to throw one last guilty glance back at the prisoners.

* * *

><p><strong>Not too exciting, but I hope you liked it anyway. Excitingness will come, though, don't worry! :)<strong>


	22. Visiting Mr Crane

It was around noon when Ruby appeared with a ring of keys. She stopped a few feet from the cell door and crossed her arms, while the prisoners watched her expectantly. The ship had been stopped for nearly an hour, and they naturally assumed that she had come to collect them for their meeting with the man who possessed the map.

"I'm going to open the door," she said, looking pointedly at Norrington. She pulled a pistol out of her belt. "Is this enough to convince you to behave, or should I have drugged your breakfast this morning?"

"I think you'll find us perfectly docile at gunpoint," Norrington replied.

Ruby unlocked the door and made her way over to Jack, pulling out a set of shackles. Jack rolled his eyes, but held out his wrists obediently.

"Lot of good those will do you," Gillette muttered.

"If you'll recall," Jack retorted, "it wasn't the irons what didn't do their job."

Ruby took Jack's arm and started leading him out of the cell.

"Wait, wait, wait," Jack protested, stalling. He threw a glance of dismay back at the two officers left in the cell. "What about them?"

"You're the one Mr. Crane wants," Ruby said. "He could care less about those two."

"_Couldn't_ care less," Jack corrected.

Ruby rolled her eyes. "Come on." She grabbed Jack's arm again, more firmly this time, and propelled him forward. She closed the cell door behind them and locked it again.

Jack twisted around in Ruby's grip to frown at Norrington and Gillette. "You think you've got the better end of the deal, eh?" Jack taunted. "Well, as you're enjoying the scenery of the brig, I'll be getting a bit of fresh air topside, savvy? While you're just sitting there, make yourselves useful. Or something." Then he was dragged away up the stairs.

Gillette sat down in a corner of the cell. "Well, I'd say our situation has just been vastly improved."

Norrington was about to sit down as well, when he heard footsteps on the stairs. A man stepped down into the brig. He wasn't particularly tall, and was certainly not imposing as he walked casually to the front of the cell, but his unsmiling expression was quite unfriendly.

"You are Darius, I presume," Norrington said.

"I am," the man replied. "Ruby says you have a proposition for me."

"It's more of a temporary employment offer."

"Well, let's hear it." Darius crossed his arms, looking impatient and very much like his daughter.

"The lieutenant and I are not friends of Jack Sparrow. Under usual circumstances I would have him in custody myself," Norrington explained, with just a note of bitterness. "However, my crew and I are in need of transportation, and I had made a deal with Sparrow in order to secure it, but seeing as he has gotten himself into a bit of trouble, and since I am quite content to leave him there, I was hoping I could offer you some sort of compensation in exchange for temporary use of your vessel."

Darius frowned slightly. "You want me to sail you and a bunch of navy boys around for a while, and I get to name my price?"

"Within reason."

Darius studied Norrington's face for a long moment, searching for any sign of dishonesty. "I'll think about it," he finally said, then turned and left.

Norrington watched the man leave and refused to allow himself to feel disappointed. Perhaps Darius hadn't been as enthusiastic as he had hoped, but really he was in no worse position than before. If Darius decided to help, the situation could only improve.

"You know, sir," Gillette commented, standing up to join the commodore. "You could just commandeer this ship, as one of the King's officers."

"Legally, yes," Norrington agreed. "In reality, though, I'm afraid we'd have to take it by force, which is not something I'm particularly eager to try. You must remember, lieutenant, we are dealing with pirates."

* * *

><p>Jack pouted in the stern of a longboat as Ruby rowed them to shore. The island they approached was small, but large enough, apparently, that the soil was good for farming. A garden was visible, and beyond that, a manor house, on stilts, but complete with an iron fence and a gate. Jack had commented on the pretentiousness of the entire setup only to be admonished by Ruby to mind his manners.<p>

"What sort of deal is it your friend wants to make with my father?" Ruby asked.

Jack frowned. "What friend?"

"The tall one. Said he had a proposition for my father."

"What sort of proposition?"

Ruby rolled her eyes. "I don't know. That's why I asked you."

"Well how should I know?"

Ruby sighed.

"And he's not exactly what I'd call a friend, exactly."

"Oh?"

"We're more like... acquaintances, really. Old enemies who, by force of dire need and an uncontrollable set of unfortunate coincidental happenings, have found that a temporary alliance would be the best path to mutually beneficial ends. As it were."

Ruby frowned and nodded slowly. "I see. So you don't know what he wants with my father?"

"Nope." Jack leaned to one side to peer around Ruby at the approaching island. "You know, love, if you would simply unbind me, just for the remainder of the duration of this small voyage inland, I could, perhaps, offer some help with the arduous effort of getting us there."

"Nice try."

"Ruby, love, your suspicion wounds me. I'm simply trying to do the gentlemanly thing and offer a lady a bit of assistance."

"Which is exactly why I'm suspicious."

Jack frowned. When the boat reached the shore, Ruby stepped out and dragged it through the shallow water to the sand. Jack simply sat in it, arms crossed, and tried to make himself as heavy as possible. Ruby finally got the boat situated on the beach so that it wouldn't drift away, and she stood with her arms crossed, panting slightly and shaking her head at Jack. "You're impossible," she said. "Come on. It's time to go."

Jack made an exaggerated grimace, and reluctantly followed Ruby across the beach up to the metal gate. A guard met them at the gate, but opened it when Ruby showed him a letter bearing the same seal that was displayed on the gate's latch. They walked up a dirt footpath, then up a flight of rickety wooden stairs to a door that was both rustic and ornate.

Ruby knocked, and the door was opened before she could even withdraw her hand. She took a startled step backwards, but quickly composed herself and displayed the letter again. A servant ushered Ruby and Jack inside, then led them along a short, narrow hallway to a sliding door. He left them for a moment outside the door, which apparently led to Crane's study, saying that he would announce their arrival and then come back.

Jack rocked back and forth on his heels, making the shackles rattle. Ruby glared at him, silently begging him to hold still and be quiet. Jack grinned nervously in reply, and jumped when the door slid open. The servant reappeared in the doorway, standing aside to allow the guests to enter. Ruby tensed, but nodded to the man and grabbed Jack's arm to lead him authoritatively into the room.

The room was more of a parlor than a study, with a wide window facing the beach and several sofas and chairs arranged in a semi-circle facing it. Crane was sitting in one of the chairs, but he stood and offered a thin smile when Ruby pulled Jack across the threshold. He was a tall, skinny man with a bald head and long, pointy feet.

"Ah, Ruby," he said. His voice was soft and breathy. "So glad you could make it, and so quickly. I hadn't expected you this soon."

"I hadn't expected him this soon," Ruby replied, shoving Jack forward. "Jack Sparrow," she said. "The one who sold my father that map."

"Captain," Jack corrected, raising both index fingers. "Captain Jack Sparrow." He offered an experimental smile.

Crane raised an eyebrow in mild interest. "A Captain, eh?"

"Yes, and before you ask, my ship is perfectly real enough. It is simply elsewhere at the moment, seeing as I was forced into making an unexpected voyage without it." He raised his hands and rattled the chains around to make his point.

Crane glanced over at Ruby. "Are the chains really necessary?"

"Yes," she said, crossing her arms resolutely. "They are. Trust me."

Crane just shrugged and sat back down, and offered Jack the chair across from him. Jack hesitated, throwing a glance to Ruby.

"Don't worry about her," Crane said. "She'll wait outside."

Now Ruby hesitated, looking from Jack to Crane, but then just nodded and slipped out. Jack sat cautiously in the chair he was offered, then made himself right at home, putting his feet up on the small table that sat between the two chairs. "Now then," Jack said, effectively calling the meeting to order. "I hear you have something you'd like to discuss with me. Something about a certain map."

"It's actually more of a something I need you to do for me."

Jack frowned. "And in exchange?"

Crane smiled and pulled a large roll of parchment out from under his chair. "Let's see how helpful you are first."

"What service, exactly, am I to be providing?"

Crane unrolled the parchment onto the table, showing its surface to be weathered and worn, but completely blank. "An explanation, for starters."

* * *

><p><strong>Oh the mystery! Long chapter this time. Sorry it took so long. I got excited about working on the parody, plus school is up and going again. I'll try to keep the updates regular! Feedback is so very much appreciated! :)<strong>


	23. Differences

Groves was pleasantly surprised by the enthusiasm with which the men set to work on the huts. They climbed up makeshift ladders or stacks of crates and barrels to reach the places where the roofs needed patching, and those who had some experience in carpentry put themselves in charge of fixing the crumbling foundations.

At first the pirates seemed confused by the sailors' actions, and even a little offended that the "outsiders" seemed to have taken it upon themselves to repair the lodgings. They didn't protest, though, and watched with interest as the work continued. By early afternoon, a few had even joined in the effort, first with suggestions and small gestures of assistance, and then by actually climbing up to work alongside the sailors.

Groves watched, secretly proud of how well his idea had turned out. The boredom and lethargy had evaporated, leaving an atmosphere that was almost jovial as all the men worked towards a common goal. As preparations were made for the evening meal, Anamaria made her way over to where the lieutenant sat. The corner of her mouth stretched into a small smile. "Well done, Lieutenant," she said. "You've managed to give them something to keep their minds off wanting to kill each other."

The pirates' cook had taken charge of the meal preparation, at Anamaria's request, as a gesture to honor the sailors for having initiated the repairing effort. When the food was ready, he shouted unceremoniously throughout the village that everyone should get in line if he wanted to eat, which effectively ended the day's work. As the sun darkened and sank, the men sat on the ground or on benches or crates, eating and talking in small groups.

Anamaria returned to Groves' side and handed him a plate of food. He thanked her, and took his foot off the stool it had been resting on. "You're welcome to sit, if you'd like," he offered.

She hesitated, but then sat, also facing towards where the men sat together in their groups. The sun glowed gently on her face and arms, and cast shadows into the creases in her shirt. For the first time, Groves realized he knew nothing about her besides her name and was curious to know more, but he resisted the urge to stare. He just ate in silence, gazing out over the groups of men silhouetted against the sunset. In the shadows, it was impossible to tell the pirates from the navy sailors.

"It's strange," Groves commented. "They don't seem so different now, when they're not trying to kill each other."

Anamaria shrugged slightly in reply. "They're all men."

* * *

><p>As the afternoon wore on, Norrington grew increasingly bored of the inactivity, and frustrated by his inability to do anything about it, and by the fact that Darius still had not responded to his request. Norrington paced around the cell, trying to remain calm for Gillette's sake, and resisting the urge to kick the metal bars and curse Jack Sparrow for complicating everything.<p>

The commodore had nearly reached his breaking point when he heard footsteps overhead, and then on the stairs leading down into the brig. He halted his pacing and waited, expecting Darius and an answer. Instead, it was Sparrow who appeared energetically at the base of the stairs. "Evening, mates," the pirate declared.

Norrington sighed.

Jack grinned and approached the cell, hiding his hands behind his back. "I've got good news and better news," he said. "Which would you like to hear first?"

Norrington just frowned.

"Chronologically, then. First..." Jack brought out his right hand, which held a roll of thick paper. "I've got the map. For a while I thought we were going to have to steal it, but Mr. Crane is actually a very reasonable man. Not so frightening once you get to know him."

"What's the better news?" Norrington asked, impatiently.

Jack faltered slightly. "That was the better news. The good news is..." He pulled out his left hand and jingled a ring of keys. "One of these just so happens to be the very key which can unlock this here door."

Norrington and Gillette both moved towards the door, but Jack took a step backwards. "Not so fast, there. If I let you out of here, I must first know where your loyalties lie. That is to say, when I take the ship, will you be assisting in or hindering the aforementioned endeavor to commandeer?"

"You're taking over the ship?" Gillette repeated.

"No, we are taking over this ship," Jack replied.

"For what purpose?" Norrington asked.

Jack frowned in confusion. "Rescuing you, of course, per our agreement. Can't hardly sail without a ship, mate, surely you of all people know that."

"You've got a perfectly good one sitting in the port at Tortuga."

"That ship," Jack said, as if he were speaking to a child, "is a pirate ship."

"And this one isn't?"

"Only by virtue of the fact that it's crewed by pirates."

"Sparrow..."

"Look, Commodore, I know better than to underestimate you. Surely you've got every respectable port on the lookout for a ship with black sails, eh? In which case, sailing such a ship into such a port would be a very unwise decision, that is, if my not-underestimation of your fine Navy's abilities and determination to extinguish the likes of me are, more or less, correct."

The pirate's assessment was almost disturbingly accurate.

"It should be a simple enough thing to convince Darius to allow us use of this vessel, seeing as he's outnumbered three-to-one, and then it's just a couple days of sailing back to the little village, a simple enough matter to exchange the map for Mr. Gibbs' freedom, and off we go." Jack grinned. "See? No worries." He gestured to the cell door. "So, what do you say? Do we have a plan, or would you prefer to spend another night in the brig?"

Norrington hesitated, then sighed and nodded.

"Oh good!" Jack quickly unlocked the door, then darted off and returned after a moment, without the map, and carrying the weapons that had been confiscated. "Now, commandeering a ship is a simple enough matter, provided you both follow my lead and don't do anything stupid."

"Yes, I do happen to have a bit of experience in maneuvers such as this," Norrington said, rolling his eyes.

"Right. Well, come on, then." Jack pulled out his pistol and went decisively up the stairs.

Gillette threw an apprehensive glance over at Norrington. "We're really doing this, sir? Helping Sparrow take the ship?"

"Think of it as we're helping Darius decide to accept my offer," Norrington replied, then he followed Jack up onto the deck, with Gillette close behind.

Norrington stepped onto the deck, and froze in mild horror. Jack stood near the railing, holding Ruby by the wrist with his pistol to her head. Darius was across the deck, his pistol drawn, staring in helpless fear as the pirate held his daughter hostage. Ruby glared at Jack and struggled against his grip.

"Not to worry, Darius, my friend!" Jack called. "All I require is use of your vessel for a brief while, and your word you'll act as a helpful crewman until I've completed my voyage!"

"Sparrow!" Norrington strode across the deck towards Jack. "Let her go."

"What did I tell you about not doing anything stupid?" Jack answered.

"You're hurting her."

"Am not. But if you're so concerned why don't you go convince her father to come to his senses."

"And you wonder why respectable men have such a disdain for men who act as pirates." Norrington glared at Jack for a moment, then reluctantly walked over to Darius.

The man's eyes were wide with fear, and he shrank from the commodore's approach. "Please, don't hurt her. Don't hurt us. But you can't take the ship. She's all we've got."

"No one's going to get hurt," Norrington said, and sheathed his sword to prove it. "But you're hardly in any position to make demands."

"Please, sir," Darius begged. "Not my daughter. Not my ship."

"Allow us use of your ship, and I will personally see that she is returned to you in her proper condition. If you agree, my offer still stands."

Darius hesitated. His eyes darted past Norrington to where his daughter still wriggled in Jack's grip. "And if I don't?"

"You and I both know refusal is hardly a reasonable option."

Darius sighed, defeated. "Your word, sailor, that I'll get my ship and proper payment for this."

"You have it."

Darius handed over his pistol, and Norrington brought it over to Jack. Jack let go of Ruby's wrist to take it, releasing her suddenly enough that she stumbled. Norrington caught her, and glared at the pirate with unrestrained contempt.

Jack tried to save himself with a grin. "See? Nothing to it. A few empty threats, a little negotiating, and no one gets hurt. I consider this little undertaking a success."

"No," Norrington argued, still holding a protective arm around the girl. She was shaking. "You have only succeeded in proving that you are an unscrupulous coward, caring nothing for anyone but yourself, and deserving only of respect for the dead."

* * *

><p><strong>Longish chapter. And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the map. You'll find out why it's special in the very near future. :) Let me know what you thought!<strong>


	24. Gestures

Norrington stared out at the black horizon, not knowing or caring how late the hour was, simply enjoying the opportunity to escape the presence of others. He was almost certain they were avoiding him, and he didn't blame them. Gillette had learned long ago that it was best to let the Commodore have his space when he was brooding over something, and Sparrow was wisely keeping his distance out of self-preservation. Norrington assumed Ruby and Darius saw him as their enemy, which was why he was puzzled when he saw Ruby approaching him.

Norrington turned to face her, and tried not to frown as he nodded in greeting. "Good evening," he said. "Is there something you need?"

Ruby shook her head and hesitated, turning so that she also gazed out at the sea next to him. "You missed dinner."

"You'll have to forgive me. I'm afraid I wouldn't have been very pleasant company."

The water splashed lightly against the edge of the ship, and the sound was the only indication that the ship sailed on anything substantial. The moon was just a sliver, and clouds covered patches of the sky, catching the stars' light before it reached the waves.

Ruby looked up at Norrington. "Jack wouldn't have hurt me," she said.

He tensed slightly. "That's no excuse."

"You really think he would have shot me? For a ship?"

"I have no way of knowing what a pirate might do," Norrington replied. The retort came off a bit more snappish than he intended.

Ruby set her hands on the railing and looked down at the blackness below. "I appreciate your efforts to protect me," she said. "But I was never in any danger."

"You didn't seem so sure of that at the time."

She faced him again. "Just because I've had a gun to my head before doesn't make it any less terrifying." Then she shook her head and dropped her gaze to the deck. She slowly leaned back until her waist rested against the railing. "I'm sorry," she said. "You're just trying to help."

Norrington sighed. "You must forgive me as well," he said. "I don't mean to condemn. I suppose I'm just..." He searched for any halfhearted excuse. "...overtired."

Ruby looked back up. "What can I call you?" she asked. "I'll understand if you don't want to give me your full name and rank, considering our circumstances, but I'd like to have something to call you by."

Norrington looked at the girl's waiting face, and hesitated a moment before answering. He didn't really want news of his association with these people falling on too many ears, Navy or pirate, but there was something in her eyes that assured him the secret wouldn't leave the ship. "Commodore James Norrington," he replied. "His Majesty's Navy."

* * *

><p>Groves slept badly, but got up anyway when the sun woke him. By the time he was out of the hut, he was already in an uncharacteristically foul temper because his ankle still hurt, after two days, badly enough that he still found the crutch a necessity. He had hoped to be rid of it by now.<p>

Groves shielded his eyes against the sun, which was bright enough to be irritating, and saw that the men had already returned to their work on the huts. Briggs approached, and Groves tried to greet him cheerfully.

"Good morning, sir," Briggs said. "It's such a pleasant day, so we got right to work."

"So I noticed."

"I think we can finish by sundown, if we set our minds to it."

Groves nodded and sat down with a sigh, already tiring of the sounds of hammering.

"Is something wrong, sir?" Briggs asked.

"I don't think I slept well," Groves replied, rubbing his eyes. "As for the work on the huts, I'm very pleased with your progress."

"When they finish with that, I've got some longboats that could use repair," Anamaria said, appearing from around the corner of the hut. "Down by the water."

Groves glanced over at a couple of men nearby who were sawing a tree branch in half, then nodded to Anamaria. "If anyone runs out of work today, I'll send them down to start on that. Perhaps you..." He paused, looking back to the men with the saw. For some reason he couldn't hear himself think over the sound of sawing. "Do they have to do that right now, right there?" he snapped.

Briggs looked startled, and threw a nervous glance at the saw. "I think they're nearly finished, sir, but I could ask them to move, if you'd like."

Groves sighed, regretting the outburst. "No, carry on, of course. You'll have to forgive me. I'm just not feeling like myself this morning."

Anamaria frowned slightly and knelt in front of him. "You don't look so good." She lifted his hat and put the back of her hand against his forehead. "You're a bit feverish, Lieutenant," she said, as if scolding a child, then she stood up and took his elbow. "You shouldn't be out here."

"I'm fine," Groves argued, feeling pestered as she made him stand up. He had every intention of protesting further, but when he got to his feet, the horizon blurred and tilted slightly, and he had no choice but to relent.

Anamaria led him back into the hut and made him lie down.

Briggs stepped into the room. "Sir, are you all right?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Fine," Groves said, annoyed with the mild illness for making him cranky.

"Do you need anything?"

"I need you to keep everything under control out there, and let me have some peace."

Briggs hesitated.

"You heard him," Anamaria insisted, shooing the sailor out of the hut. She made Groves drink some water, gave him a blanket and instructed him to sleep, then left, promising she'd keep the sailors as quiet as possible. "I'll be back later," she said, as she headed for the door. "Just to make sure you're still alive."

Groves slept through lunch and most of the afternoon, waking up just as the evening meal was being prepared. Anamaria stopped in to ask him if he was hungry, but the thought of food made his stomach squirm, and he shook his head no. She left, and came back later, after the sun had gone down.

"I brought you some tea," she said.

"Tea?" he repeated. "Here?"

"Not the kind you're used to. My own recipe."

Groves sat up and accepted the metal cup she handed him. The drink was startlingly strong, but it was warm and felt good going down.

Anamaria stood back and regarded him with mild indifference. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"Lousy," he replied. "Not awful. Just lousy."

Her eyebrows raised slightly, acknowledging his attempt at humor. "You look lousy," she commented, taking the empty cup from him. "So I'm staying here tonight, just to keep an eye on you."

"That's not necessary," Groves insisted, thinking immediately of the inappropriateness of having a woman share his cabin, even if he was sick and there were plenty of extra cots.

"Don't argue. It's either me or Briggs, and he's nearly in hysterics after I kept him out of here all day."

Groves lay down again, feeling drowsy. "Thanks for that, by the way," he said. "I think now I understand how the Commodore feels when Gillette pesters him about every little thing."

Anamaria sat down on a cot against the opposite wall. "I'll be over here."

"I'd rather you didn't," he mumbled, but then his eyes closed and the protest slipped away.

Groves woke up again in the middle of the night, covered in sweat. He tossed the blanket off and sat up on the edge of the cot, then unbuttoned his collar in an effort to cool off. He glanced over at Anamaria. She seemed sound asleep on her cot, so he stood up and went as quietly as he could towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I didn't mean to wake you," he said quietly, stopping. "I just need some fresh air."

The cot creaked as Anamaria stood up. "I don't think so," she argued. "You'll catch yourself a chill."

"I doubt that."

She crossed the room and felt his forehead. "Your fever's breaking. You just have to let it sweat itself out. Lie down."

Groves sighed, and let her propel him back to his cot. He lay down, but left the blanket off.

Anamaria walked away and disappeared into the darkness. "It's a good sign," she insisted, coming back. "You should feel better in the morning." Anamaria sat down on the edge of the cot and touched a damp cloth to the lieutenant's forehead. "Is that better?" she asked.

He nodded, and she dabbed his face and temples.

After a few moments Groves looked up at her. "Why are you doing this?"

She glanced down at the cloth as it hovered between them. "It'll help the fever come down," she answered, and started to turn away.

"No." Groves gently caught her wrist, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You're a pirate," he said. "I'm your enemy. Surely I'm not so ill that I won't recover on my own, and I'm certainly none of your concern. Why are you helping me?"

Anamaria held his gaze. "Because it's the decent thing to do."

* * *

><p><strong>I wasn't planning on getting this out so soon, but here it is. I hope you liked it. :) Hopefully it wasn't too boring. Any feedback is appreciated! Thanks to all of you for taking the time to readreview!**


	25. The Map

"Sir, come look at this," Gillette called.

Norrington was trying to sleep, to make up for two days of working on the ship with little rest at night. Sparrow had been conspicuously absent ever since the "mutiny," not that Norrington minded, though it was curious that the pirate had managed to remain invisible for so long. The ship wasn't particularly large. For some inexplicable reason his outburst against Sparrow still bothered him almost as much as the pirate's actions. Or maybe it was the reason behind his reaction that bothered him. Maybe Ruby had looked a bit too much like a certain governor's daughter held at gunpoint to be used as Jack Sparrow's leverage.

Norrington joined his lieutenant in the small corridor. Gillette was kneeling next to a small hole in the floor of the ship, with a roll of parchment spread across his knee. He glanced up when the Commodore approached. "I think I found Sparrow's map," Gillette said, looking immensely perplexed.

"What sort of map is it?" Norrington asked.

"Not much of one." Gillette held up the parchment, displaying that it was completely blank.

Norrington frowned and took the map from his lieutenant. "How did you find it?"

"Nearly tripped on a loose floorboard," Gillette replied. "Knocked it out of place, and when I tried to replace it, I saw this underneath."

Norrington turned the map over to be sure that there was nothing hidden on its reverse side. There wasn't. He sighed in exasperation. "Surely I will never fathom pirates and their inane squabbles. This map is completely useless."

"Not if you know how to use it." Ruby had appeared at the base of a staircase. She looked at Norrington for a moment, then moved closer and took the map from him. "It's like Jack's compass," she said. "Special."

"What do you know about this map?" Norrington asked.

Ruby briefly examined the map's edges, then reoriented it and, very deliberately, pressed her thumb into the lower right corner, then stated her name, "Ruby Calderon."

The blank spaces came alive. Ruby's thumbprint appeared, as if stamped in black ink. Other lines faded into view, forming a map of lines and color that were startling lifelike. Ruby dragged her thumb across the page, pulling the thumbprint along. The surrounding scenery moved with the thumbprint, as if the print were a fixed point on a rotating globe. Ruby lifted her finger, leaving the thumbprint in the center of the map. Next to Ruby's thumbprint, her name appeared in smooth calligraphic handwriting. Another thumbprint appeared next to it, bearing Darius's name. Whitney Crane's name and print floated on the image of the island the ship had departed the previous day.

Norrington absently reached for the map, but Ruby pulled it out of his reach. "Don't," she said. "It won't work if you touch it."

Norrington withdrew his hand. "Forgive me," he said. "I've never seen anything like it. How does it work?"

"It reads your thumbprint. Your name is the password, so no two combinations can be the same and it can't be forged."

"What are the other names?" Norrington asked.

"Anyone whose location might be of interest to me."

"Not ours?" Gillette commented.

Ruby raised her eyebrows. "You're both standing right next to me. I can see where you are."

Norrington still stared at the map. "Does it work for anyone?"

Ruby handed the parchment to him, and as soon as he touched it, the images vanished. Norrington hesitated only briefly, then pressed his thumb to the edge of the map and spoke his own name, as Ruby had done, then watched the map come to life. He concentrated on keeping his hand steady as he brought his own mark to the center of the page, and his eyes glanced around at the same scenery, but marked with different prints and names than Ruby's map had shown. A mark for Jack Sparrow showed that the pirate was still on the ship somewhere. The island of the pirate village was cluttered with prints bearing the names of the men who served under Norrington, and on the other side of the island, Lord Cutler Beckett's name appeared.

"I can see why this map is so valuable," Norrington said. He slowly rolled up the parchment, watching the images fade as he did, then gave it to Gillette. "Put it back just as you found it. There's no reason Sparrow should know we've found it."

Gillette obeyed.

Norrington watched Ruby as she walked away, and thought that this sort of map could be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands. And then he caught himself wondering whose hands, exactly, were the right ones.

* * *

><p>Lieutenant Groves sat on the ground in the shade of a particularly leafy tree, obeying Anamaria's instructions to stay out of the sun even though he was feeling much better. After his fever broke he had slept soundly through the next morning, and woken up feeling well enough - and hungry enough - to join the men for lunch. He had even managed to smile and graciously receive Briggs' enthusiastic greeting.<p>

The sailors and the pirates were still getting along. The huts were all but finished, and Groves noted with approval the quality of the work that had been done. About half of the men had now gone down to the beach to mend the longboats, and Groves supposed he and Anamaria would soon have to come up with new tasks for the men to work on. He counted six days since the Commodore and Gillette had departed with Sparrow. It seemed so long ago, since much had changed since then, but at the same time it felt impossible that so much change could have taken place in so little time.

Anamaria came over and sat down next to the lieutenant.

"To what do I owe this visit?" Groves asked.

She handed him a canteen. "I thought you might like some company."

Groves took a drink of water. "It has been a bit lonely these past couple days." He handed the canteen back, and glanced up at the sky. "I think tomorrow might bring us a bit of a break from this heat."

Anamaria nodded, and also drank from the canteen. "It's about time it rained."

It was true. The grass was dry and prickly, and anyone who walked along the dirt paths sent puffs of dust trailing into the air. Groves glanced over at Anamaria. She was gazing off across the village, frowning just slightly, though he couldn't tell if the frown was from some troubling thought or from the sun. He thought he ought to make conversation. After all, she had come all the way over to sit with him.

"I don't believe I ever properly introduced myself," he said, catching her attention. "Lieutenant Theodore Groves. I've been in the navy for eleven years now, in Port Royal for seven, and hearing promises of promotion for two."

Anamaria smiled slightly, accepting the invitation. "I've been on Jack's crew ever since he and that blacksmith showed up in Tortuga. He promised that ship would be mine when he got the _Pearl_ back, but Barbossa destroyed it."

Groves winced slightly. "The _Interceptor_. Yes. The Commodore was livid."

She just shrugged. "It was a good ship." She looked back out at the village. "Jack's a good captain. No matter what you say."

"Actually," Groves said, hesitating only slightly. "I once said I thought Sparrow was the best pirate I'd ever seen."

Anamaria looked back at him, amused. "When?"

"When he stole the _Interceptor_," Groves admitted, glancing down at the dry grass. "Given the circumstances, such a comment was in poor taste, and the Commodore told me as much. It was a clever trick though, with the ships."

Anamaria nodded absently and squinted up at the sun. "I think we'd better bring the supplies indoors tonight. It's likely the rain could start before morning."

Groves agreed, and stood. His ankle held him, though a bit precariously, but he still used the crutch just to humor those who continued to express concern. "How long do you suppose until your captain returns?"

"Could be tomorrow, could be in a month," she replied. "There's no telling with Jack. That's how he gets to be the best pirate you've ever seen."

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the wait, but finally you got to see what's up with the map. :) And yes, I based it a bit off the Marauder's Map from Harry Potter. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. Your reviews are always so very much appreciated!<strong>


	26. Company

The next morning dawned gray over the little village. The air was mostly still, but there was a damp chill in even the slightest breeze, which promised rain. The repair work was nearly finished, though a few men went down to the beach early to do the last bit of work on one of the longboats. Groves commended both the Navy sailors and the pirates for their fine work, and told them to be glad they had finished with the huts before the rain arrived. He had no other work in mind, and since it was likely to rain at any moment anyway, he told all the men to simply relax and enjoy taking the day off.

Groves sat in his usual spot outside his hut. The crutch was with him, but since that morning he hadn't been particularly faithful about using it. For lack of something better to do, Groves spent the morning by polishing his sword. Not that there was anything proper to polish it with, but he found that the sleeve of his coat did a decent job removing the smudges and dirt and residue of saltwater that clung to it. When the sword was nearly shiny again, Groves was almost startled to see Anamaria's reflection in its blade. He looked up.

"Keeping busy, Lieutenant?" she asked, smiling mildly. She held a wooden bucket.

He set the sword on his lap. "Have you been waiting on me long?"

"No. I just came over to let you know I'm going into the forest a ways to gather some fresh fruit. It's been a while since we had some."

Groves nodded, thinking it a bit curious that she made such an effort to inform him of her intentions. Mere days ago she would have used that effort to elude him on purpose. He stood up and sheathed the sword. "I'll accompany you," he said.

Anamaria frowned and crossed her arms. "I don't need protecting, Lieutenant."

"Of course not. I just think my ankle could use some exercise."

She looked skeptically down at his ankle, and started to say something.

"And," Groves cut her off, "I thought perhaps you might like some company."

Anamaria met his eyes, hesitating for a moment. Then she shrugged and said, "All right," and started to walk away. "But if you fall behind," she threw over her shoulder, "you'll be left behind."

Groves caught up to her in a few quick strides. "Left behind?"

"Pirates' code," Anamaria explained. "Any man who falls behind is left behind."

They moved past the outskirts of the village into the forest. It wasn't particularly thick with vegetation, but the vivid greens and enormous leaves made the forest seem denser than it was. Some of the plants were the flowering type, and some pinks and yellows occasionally appeared in patches among the greens and browns. Anamaria inspected the plants and placed ripe fruits in her bucket as they walked.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Groves said, after a while. "But I'd never considered that pirates would abide by any sort of code."

"And why shouldn't we?"

"I just didn't think you particularly cared for following rules."

"The code's more like guidelines." She looked over at him. "We may live outside the law, but we're not a lawless bunch. You think any crew could survive without standards of conduct?"

"Well, hardly, but - "

"Pirate crew's no exception."

"I suppose not. I just hadn't thought of it before."

She shrugged. "And why should you?"

The rain came all at once. The sparse forest canopy didn't provide much cover, and Groves looked around for some place they could find shelter from the rain before they were completely soaked to the skin. He took Anamaria's arm and pulled her underneath a nearby bush, whose leaves all but enveloped them and proved to be reasonably waterproof.

"We can't stay here all day," Anamaria pointed out.

"Maybe it'll let up some, soon," Groves suggested. Then he grimaced. "I never told Briggs where I was going."

Anamaria's mouth twitched in amusement. "He'll be looking everywhere for you."

Groves sighed. "He'll be all right," he insisted, though he was mentally berating himself and wondering how he had become so distracted as to overlook something so simple. He glanced over at Anamaria, standing next to him and frowning up at the sky, and knew. "Anamaria," he said, cautiously.

She turned and waited, and suddenly her dark eyes were innocent. She wasn't a pirate. She was just another person, a sailor, like him.

"I want to thank you."

"What for?"

"For curing me of my Navy-inflicted narrow-mindedness. For letting me see a bit of what makes piracy thrive. For showing me that there is good even outside the law I'm forced to uphold." He hesitated. "And for forgiving a naive lieutenant of his unfounded prejudices."

Later, Groves didn't remember making the decision to kiss her. He only remembered that it happened, there in the forest, under the large green leaves of a jungle plant, away from the expectations of either the Navy or the Pirates' Code. He remembered that he kissed a pirate, and he remembered that she kissed him back, all the while both of them knowing that it would never be anything more than a hidden kiss on an unnamed island.

* * *

><p><strong>Short-ish chapter. It would have been up at a more reasonable hour, but for some reason I couldn't get to the log in page for most of the day. Silliness. Anyway, this was originally going to feature Norrington, Gillette, and Jack returning to Beckett, but that's coming next! :)<strong>


	27. Good Business

Norrington found the rain unpleasant, but he was glad the weather wasn't too severe. A storm was the last thing this voyage needed. Jack finally appeared just after the ship reached the island where Beckett's fortress was located. The pirate came over to Norrington, squinting against the sky as if into direct sunlight and shielding his eyes.

"Oh, so you're still on board after all," Norrington commented.

"And you're pretending you didn't already know that," Jack replied.

"What have you been doing this whole time?"

"Drinking away the sorrows, mate. Words like a double-edged sword, you know, or however that saying goes."

Norrington just rolled his eyes, irritated by Sparrow's very existence.

"Fortunately I've always been the resilient type. Good thing, too, since we'll be sailing together again once we've traded the map for Gibbs' freedom."

Norrington was just about to respond with some sort of threat, when Gillette walked up and informed him that the longboat was ready. Jack grinned innocently and went to retrieve the map. Gillette frowned after Jack for a moment, then glanced up at the sky. "Miserable weather," he commented.

"Could be worse," Norrington replied, having decided to remain as positive as possible.

He and Gillette made their way to where Darius and Ruby waited to see them off. Jack returned, and the trio climbed down into the longboat. As Norrington disappeared over the side of the ship, he caught Ruby's eye, and a quiet, "Good luck." He nodded thanks, and joined the others.

When the longboat reached the island, Jack led the Commodore and Gillette right up to the fortress's main gate. Gillette threw Norrington an apprehensive glance as Jack grinned and walked towards one of the guards, but after a moment the guards stepped aside and allowed the three to enter without any harassment besides suspicious frowns.

"They're not going to arrest us for trespassing?" Gillette asked, once the guards were out of earshot.

"Nope," Jack replied. "We're not trespassing. We are here on business. Arresting us would be counter-productive, mate."

"I don't understand."

"That's because you're..." Words failed, and Jack simply frowned and gestured at Gillette.

The three men arrived in Lord Beckett's office, escorted by two guards, dripping wet and glad to be out of the rain. Beckett was seated behind his desk as usual, but he stood when they entered, his eyebrows raised in a rare expression of interest. He came around his desk and frowned mildly at the wet spots appearing on his carpet, but said nothing about it. Instead, he met Norrington's eyes for a moment, then stopped in front of Jack.

"So," Beckett said smoothly. "Have you brought it?"

"Indeed I have," Jack replied, grinning and pulling the rolled-up map out of his shirt.

Beckett's eyes widened slowly and he reached for it, but Jack snatched it away and held out a hand to stop him. Beckett frowned.

"Not so fast. First I'll be seeing my first mate here, in this room, alive and well."

"Ah." Beckett took a step backwards. "Of course." He nodded to one of the guards, and he left quickly to fetch the prisoner.

They waited in silence for the guard to return. Norrington cautiously watched Beckett, standing like a pale statue in front of the huge mahogany desk. The hint of a smirk on the man's otherwise impassive face was strangely unnerving. Norrington thought that if Beckett were at all generous he would have offered them tea or a warm place to sit.

The guard returned, roughly shoving Gibbs into the room ahead of him. Gibbs stumbled, and Norrington instinctively caught the man's arm to steady him. Gibbs looked up into the Commodore's face and frowned in confusion, then looked over at Jack and started to ask something, but Jack quickly cut him off.

"Ah, Mister Gibbs!" Jack exclaimed. "So good to see you again."

Gibbs stepped over towards Jack and frowned. "Aye, and you as well, Captain, though if you don't mind my sayin' so, you've got a bit of explaining to do."

"All in good time, my good man." Jack laughed nervously.

"The map," Beckett demanded, none too patiently.

Jack handed it over, and once Beckett had unrolled the map and examined it, he nodded to the guard and Gibbs' shackles were removed. Gibbs winced and rubbed his wrists, throwing a glance of distaste over at Beckett. Beckett didn't notice. He was too busy staring greedily at the blank parchment.

Norrington looked from Jack to Beckett, mildly confused at Lord Beckett's inaction and waiting for him to make good on their agreement. Jack was also glancing nervously around the room. Gibbs still looked confused. Gillette was watching Norrington and trying not to shiver from the cold and wet.

Finally Beckett rolled up the map and walked deliberately over to his desk to put it in a drawer. Then he stood up, folded his hands behind his back, and smiled slightly. "Arrest them," he said.

Norrington's satisfaction lasted only until he felt his wrists roughly clamped in iron and the cold metal of a gun at the back of his neck. Gillette shouted in surprise as he was given similar treatment. Norrington spun to glare at Jack. "You," he accused, reaching out to throttle the pirate. "I should have known."

"Don't blame Jack," Beckett said, in the same even tone. "He is innocent, so to speak."

Norrington stared at Beckett.

"You see, Jack and I have been doing business for quite some time now. Pirate or not, business is good. Can't have you running off to the Navy and uprooting Captain Sparrow's little outpost, now can I?" Beckett shrugged. "No hard feelings, Commodore. It's just good business."

Norrington wanted to resist the arrest, but the sudden realization that he had led Gillette into a trap made his knees weak and his mind numb, and he could only submit to the guard's strong lead as he and Gillette were taken away. Norrington threw one last desperate glance over his shoulder and saw the shocked expression on Jack's face, just before the tall wooden doors slammed shut.

* * *

><p><strong>Yay, an update! We're actually coming up on the end of this, believe it or not. Sorry if this chapter seemed forced... But I hope you're sufficiently interested in what happens next! :)<strong>


	28. Midnight Reversal

Beckett hadn't said it in so many words, but Norrington knew he and Gillette would likely be hanged in the morning. Until then, they faced a miserable night in a cold, damp cell. The prison was located underground, and since the ground happened to be soaked from all the rain, water leaked in through cracks in the walls and the floor and spilled in from the ground-level windows. The sun had set hours ago, and taken the day's warmth with it.

Norrington sat with his head against the wall, and his hand hiding his face so he wouldn't have to look at Gillette. His temples ached. He wanted to lie down, but there was an inch of muddy water covering the floor. It was surreal, all of this, and something in the back of his mind held onto the hope that none of this would seem so bad in the morning. Lord Beckett would let them go. It was all just a misunderstanding. But as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, Norrington knew that he had walked into a trap. He had expected Sparrow to act like a pirate, but Lord Beckett stood for order. That betrayal was senseless, and the senselessness of the whole situation was maddening.

Norrington looked up at Gillette, sitting against the opposite wall, shivering, his arms wrapped around himself for warmth, and felt sick when he thought that he had led Gillette to his death.

Gillette felt the commodore's gaze and looked up. "We may not hang after all," he commented. "This freezing cell might kill us first."

Norrington dropped his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. "Perhaps in the morning I can negotiate your release."

Gillette sneezed. "Don't be absurd. We've got all night to plan our escape."

Norrington couldn't bring himself to force a smile in reply, especially when he saw how pale Gillette looked.

A loud smack brought both men to their feet, reaching for weapons that weren't there, and looking around for the source of the noise. A large tree branch lay on the floor of the cell just below the window. Norrington looked up to the window, trying to comprehend how the branch could have fallen so perfectly through the bars, when a face appeared in the window. "Sparrow?"

"Don't just stand there!" Jack said gesturing to the branch. "Took me forever to drag that here, so we haven't got much time."

"What is it?"

"Leverage."

Gillette frowned dubiously at the branch, but Norrington took one look at the iron door and suddenly the word "leverage" took on a whole new meaning. He shoved the branch between the horizontal bars. "Gillette," he called, and Gillette took hold of the door. Norrington pried the door off its hinges, and Gillette guided it open, just enough.

Norrington looked back at Jack to ask which way they were supposed to go, but the pirate had vanished.

"Commodore!" a voice called from the corridor. Gibbs had appeared in the darkness, and motioned for Norrington and Gillette to follow him.

They did, and Gibbs led them quickly down the narrow passage to the back of the jail and up an even narrower flight of stairs. He pushed open a thick wooden door and was greeted by a blast of wind an rain, and then the anxious faces of Pintel and Ragetti.

"Hurry!" Pintel said. "I think this one's starting to wake up."

Norrington noticed two of Beckett's uniformed guards unconscious on the ground, but he simply stepped over them and followed the members of Jack's crew away from the prison. The prison made up an outer wall of Beckett's fortress, which Norrington thought a foolish design, but he was glad that it was only a short sprint to the shore where Jack was waiting in a longboat. For the first time all day Norrington was grateful for the heavy rain, as it obscured his view of the island after only a few short minutes. He couldn't see a ship in the other direction, either, which surely meant that any of Lord Beckett's watchmen couldn't see it either.

The ship came into view, and Groves' face appeared at the rail. Norrington felt weak with relief at the sight of his lieutenant and didn't even bother to wonder how Groves had ended up on Darius's ship. Jack climbed aboard first and immediately shouted orders to cast off.

Groves all but laughed with relief when he saw Norrington and Gillette on board and uninjured. Norrington assured him that they were all right, and Groves hurried to finish making preparations to sail. Norrington leaned back against the railing, shaking from the cold and adrenaline, and not trusting his knees to hold him. Within minutes the ship was sailing away from the island. Norrington noticed that the ship was full of crewmen, members of his own crew and the pirates who sailed under Jack, but he was too exhausted to puzzle over the phenomenon.

A sneeze alerted him to Gillette's presence, and he frowned. "You don't look well."

"I don't feel well," Gillette said, shivering. He sneezed again. "I think I'm catching a cold."

"Let's get you below."

Gillette's knees buckled, and Norrington caught his arm to steady him. Ruby appeared out of nowhere and took Gillette's other arm, and together they made their way down out of the rain to their cabin, which was now furnished with the same cots that had been in the huts on the island. Norrington and Ruby guided Gillette to sit on one of the cots, and Ruby put a thick blanket around the lieutenant's shoulders.

"There's extra clothes on that chair," Ruby said, pointing. "You both better dry off. I'll be back."

Ruby left and closed the door, and Norrington and Gillette changed into the dry clothes she had left for them. Norrington didn't bother to wonder where they came from or how the cots had appeared in the cabin. He was just grateful that both were warm and dry.

Gillette coughed. He wrapped the blanket around himself and sat back down on the cot, looking miserable.

There was a knock, and Norrington opened the door to let Ruby back in. She was followed by Anamaria, who carried a tray bearing two tall mugs, and Groves.

Anamaria set the tray down and put a mug in Gillette's hands. "Drink that," she ordered, and returned to the tray for the second mug.

"The rain's letting up," Groves commented to Norrington. "According to Captain Sparrow we're about two days from Port Royal."

Norrington nodded and closed his eyes.

"Are you all right, sir?"

"I have a splitting headache," Norrington replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Here," Anamaria said, handing him the second mug. "Sit down and drink this."

"It helps," Groves added.

Norrington obeyed. "Lieutenant, I'd like to see you first thing in the morning, if you don't mind," he told Groves. "And let Sparrow know I'll be looking for him in the morning as well."

Groves nodded, then left with Anamaria.

Gillette had fallen asleep on the cot, still wrapped in the blanket. Norrington just looked at him for a moment while he drank the warm liquid Anamaria had given him. A floorboard creaked, and he suddenly remembered Ruby was still in the room. He looked up at her.

"Do you need anything else?" she asked, when his eyes met hers.

"No, I don't think so," Norrington replied, thinking that explanations could wait until his head was a little clearer.

"You should get some rest," Ruby said. "You look half-asleep already. I'll take the mug."

He offered it to her, and she grasped it, but he didn't let go. He put his other hand over hers and met her eyes. "Thank you," he said. "For everything."

Ruby lingered a moment, then smiled and took the mug and left. Norrington watched her, thinking that she had given piracy a better name than Lord Beckett had given to the entire law-abiding world.

* * *

><p><strong>Yay for midnight rescue missions! Hope you liked this. We're almost done! :) Thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing!<strong>


	29. Human Decency

Norrington woke up feeling much better than he had in days, despite stiff muscles and an aching back, which were no doubt the result of having spent half the night in a cold cell. He found Groves, and joined him in an empty cabin to receive a lengthy account of almost everything that had taken place on the island. Groves explained the uncomfortable first days with the pirates, and then his truce agreement with Anamaria, the work on the huts, and the eventual camaraderie between the two crews. He left out only two things: his fever, and Anamaria's kiss.

Groves then recounted Jack's return to the village. The rain had continued steadily, after he and Anamaria had returned from gathering fruit, and throughout the afternoon the men spent most of their time inside the huts talking or napping or tossing dice to pass the time. Jack's arrival was unexpected, since there was no reason for anyone to be watching the sea for a sail. Jack had simply walked into the village, followed by Gibbs and Darius, and had told Anamaria in no uncertain terms that it was time to go. She hurried to gather the men - all of them - while Jack explained the situation to Groves, making it clear that none of it was his fault. The men were instructed to gather the supplies, including the metal beds and wooden furniture, and load them onto the ship.

Despite Jack's incessant urging to hurry, the loading process was slow, with no dock and a limited number of longboats, and wasn't finished until the sun had begun to set. The rain had never stopped, and by the time the ship was ready to sail, the men were wet and tired and doing their best not to be irritable with each other. They boarded the ship, longboat after crowded longboat, aiding those who were still recovering from wounds they had received in the skirmish. Then they set sail for the other side of the island. Jack, by unspoken consensus, was in command.

The ship dropped anchor just after midnight, as close to the shore as was reasonably safe. Jack went ashore, taking only Gibbs, Ragetti, and Pintel with him, after refusing Groves' request to come along with some members of the commodore's crew. The two hours of waiting in the dark and rain felt like eternity, especially with no guarantee that the mission would be successful. But the longboats had returned, and now, according to Jack, they were heading for Port Royal, compliments of Darius.

Norrington sat back in his chair, gazing absently at the table and taking it all in. He glanced up at Groves. "I feel as though I'm in your debt, Lieutenant," he said. "I left you with enormous responsibility, not yours to bear, but from what I see, in your account and in the interactions of the men on this ship, you have conducted yourself admirably in my absence."

"Thank you, sir." Groves did not take the praise lightly. Then to break the silence, he said, "I don't suppose you know why we're not sailing on the _Black Pearl_."

Norrington thought first of giving the simple answer, that Sparrow's ship was too recognizable for safe passage in Navy-patrolled waters, but he knew a full explanation was the least Groves deserved. As much as he didn't feel like talking about it, he recounted everything that had happened since he, Jack, and Gillette had sailed away from the village. The map, the deal with Beckett, Ruby and Darius and the kidnapping, the brief visit to Mr. Crane, the "mutiny," and finally, Beckett's betrayal.

Groves' eyes were wide by the time the commodore had finished. "Lord Beckett is not to be trusted?"

"Apparently not."

"I don't suppose he's the type of man who's likely to let an incident like this pass," Groves commented.

"He has nothing to accuse me of," Norrington said tensely.

"But he does have the map."

"You sound like Gillette." Norrington managed a slight smile.

Groves returned the smile, then asked, "Speaking of Gillette, how is he?"

Norrington sighed. "Not very well, I'm afraid. He needs rest. Ruby has kindly taken on the task of caring for him until we reach Port Royal."

"My condolences to Ruby."

Norrington frowned.

"Gillette whines," Groves explained.

Norrington gave Groves a look, and sent him to fetch Sparrow.

Jack arrived with uncharacteristic promptness and greeted Norrington with a hesitant grin. "Ah, Commodore, lovely morning, isn't it?" He sat down in the chair Groves had recently vacated. "Especially after all that dismal precipitation of yesterday, eh?"

Norrington didn't respond. He was watching the pirate's face.

"Well, in any case, your lieutenant said you wanted to see me, and I most certainly could not turn down an invitation like that. So, here I am." Jack gestured to himself.

"Yes," Norrington said.

"I don't suppose you'd care to divulge what about?"

"I don't suppose you'd care to guess," Norrington replied.

Jack winced.

"You, Sparrow, have much explaining to do."

"I don't think I like the sound of that. Could you try asking nicely?"

"You led us into a trap."

"No, no, no, I didn't. That is, I didn't know it was a trap. Ruby is usually such a fine, hospitable lass, and it was only desperation what led her to - "

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

Jack rolled his eyes, trying to act as if the request were ridiculous, but he wilted under the commodore's hard frown and gave in. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. "I had no idea, none whatsoever, of what Beckett's intentions were, I swear to it. On pain of death. My only goal, mate, was to rescue Gibbs."

"Seeing as you'd already traded his ransom for God-knows-what."

Jack held up both hands and sat back, as if to block a tangible hatred coming from the commodore's eyes. "That's not important," he argued. "The important thing, mate, is that if not for me, if not for good ol' Jack, you and your fine spirited mate would still be Lord Beckett's prisoners, locked up in that dismal cellar of a prison with no friends and no hope of escape. Or, hanged, more likely, by now, seeing as it's nearly noon."

Norrington frowned. "Yes," he conceded. "Why?"

Jack grimaced as if something pained him. "Can't you allow a man to maintain a bit of enigmatic intrigue?"

Norrington just sat and waited, hardly in the mood to resort to threats.

Jack sighed in defeat, and glanced down at the legs of the table. "Human decency, mate," he replied. He said it simply enough, but when he glanced up there was something pointed in his gaze.

Those two words, human decency, triggered something in Norrington's mind, and he suddenly remembered the brig of Darius's ship. He and Gillette had planned to leave Sparrow to find his own map while convincing Darius to provide transportation for Norrington's crew. Gillette had pointed out that there would likely be a price associated with such a deed. Norrington had remarked that the pirates' world was devoid of human decency.

Norrington stared at Jack. "You were listening," he said. "The entire time."

"Always keep one eye and one ear open, mate," Jack replied with a shrug. "That's likely why I'm still alive."

Norrington was silent for a moment, staring at nothing and trying his best not to think the thoughts that kept trying to enter his mind. He looked up. "Lord Beckett will surely find you, no matter where you try to hide."

Jack grinned. "Not likely."

"You gave him the map."

"You really think I, Captain Jack Sparrow, would do something so... stupid?"

Norrington frowned. "I saw you."

"Ah." Jack held up both pointer fingers. The defeat was suddenly gone from his face. "Careful that you see past that which you only think you see. It may be but an illusion."

"Sparrow..."

"What I gave to Cutler Beckett, in exchange for the release of my fine first mate, and which led, unfortunately and unforeseeably, to your capture, was not at all the map what your lieutenant so serendipitously found hidden under that loose floorboard."

"You knew?"

"Let's not get off-topic, shall we? I spent the better part of two whole days and nights meticulously copying the very shape, texture, and whatnot of that seemingly unremarkable piece of parchment onto another. A fine forgery, if I do say so myself. Certainly fooled you."

"And the real map?"

Jack grinned. "It's safe."

"You wanted us to find it."

"Now you're making assumptions, Commodore, and that's a dangerous thing to do, you should know." Jack cut off the commodore's objection to the pointed statement by loudly scooting his chair across the floor as he stood. "I'm going to have a drink," the pirate announced. "You're welcome to join me, but since I know you won't, I think I'd best take my leave of you."

Norrington also stood. "It's barely noon."

Jack stared at him blankly, as if he had no idea what the commodore's statement had to do with anything. Then he blinked and frowned slightly. "By the way, Commodore, I haven't seen that lieutenant of yours. I thought for sure he was in the longboat with us."

"He's sick," Norrington said. "Came down with a nasty cold after last night. He'll be staying in bed."

"Maybe he'll finally shut up, then. However, Anamaria's got a recipe for a tonic what works wonders on a fever," Jack suggested, moving towards the door. "You ought to ask your other lieutenant about it."

Norrington frowned.

Jack grinned in reply, offered his trademark mock salute, and left the cabin door open on his way out.

* * *

><p><strong>Long chapter this time. You're welcome. ;) One more, I think, and that will be the conclusion! Let me know what you thought!<strong>


	30. Welcome

"There's your fort," Ruby said, joining Norrington at the railing.

"Yes," he replied. "Fort Charles. We'll be going ashore within the hour, and then I trust you and Captain Sparrow have worked out some arrangement concerning your return to Tortuga."

Ruby nodded. "He's got to get his ship back somehow."

"Will you and your father be all right?"

She frowned slightly. "Of course we will. We can take care of ourselves." She turned and faced him. "We'll be fine."

Norrington sighed. "I'm concerned that Sparrow may take advantage of you."

Ruby shook her head and smiled slightly at the railing. "Jack would never do that."

"Perhaps you don't know him the way I do."

"No, Commodore, you don't know Jack the way I do." She hesitated, then looked back up at him. "He paid off our debt."

Norrington frowned at her, not sure he had heard right. "What?"

"To Mr. Crane." Ruby sighed and looked at her hands as she explained. "Mr. Crane gave us the ship. It's the only way we earn our living, but we couldn't pay for it. So every month we owe money to Mr. Crane. We gave him that map as one of our payments to save money for ourselves, and when he sent word that we were to bring Jack to him, we had to. He could take the ship if we didn't obey." Ruby shook her head. "I don't know what Jack said to him, but the debt is cancelled. Mr. Crane told us in writing. The ship is ours. We're free."

Still frowning, Norrington glanced over at Jack. The pirate was strutting around the deck acting as if he were directing the work of the sailors as they prepared to land at Port Royal. "I don't understand," Norrington said, looking back at Ruby. "Why would he do something like that?"

She shrugged. "He sort of owed us after all the trouble he caused."

Norrington threw another look over at Jack, thoroughly convinced that he would never be able to predict nor comprehend the pirate's actions. First the arrangement on the island and all the secrecy, the map, the mutiny, the rescue, and now Jack's apparent attempt to make amends for his actions. All in the name of piracy. It was baffling.

Norrington turned when he heard a cough behind him, and saw Gillette standing at the top of a staircase, leaning slightly against the wall. "Lieutenant, are you all right?" Norrington asked. "What are you doing?"

"I need fresh air," Gillette said.

"You need rest," Norrington argued, frowning at Gillette. He took the lieutenant's arm and guided him to sit down on a nearby bench.

"And," Gillette continued, "I thought if I could walk out of here on my own, you couldn't make me go to the infirmary."

Norrington rolled his eyes.

Ruby felt Gillette's forehead. "You're feverish," she told him. "I'll get you some water."

"We'll be going ashore soon," Norrington said. "I'll have my carriage take you home."

"Thank you, sir."

Ruby returned and handed Gillette a cup of water. He smiled in thanks and drank from it.

"Commodore."

Norrington turned, and faced Groves, who had been put in charge of the preparations for going ashore.

"Are we to be landing at the dock?" Groves asked. "Or will we be taking the longboats?"

"The dock," Norringotn said. "The boats would be an unnecessary hassle, especially with so many wounded."

Groves nodded, then looked past the commodore and frowned. "Gillette, you look like death."

Gillette scowled up at him. "You're not such a pretty sight yourself," he countered. "But then, you never are."

"Working with you every day takes its toll."

"Lieutenant Groves, perhaps you could begin sorting our supplies from the rest and preparing them to go ashore with us," Norrington said, giving Groves a look.

Groves got the message. He nodded and quickly left.

* * *

><p>It seemed that all of Port Royal had gathered near the docks to celebrate the commodore's safe return. Norrington waited on the ship, avoiding the crowd and the commotion for as long as possible while the sailors unloaded the supplies and brought the wounded to the fort hospital. When Norrington saw Governor Swann arrive by carriage, he knew he couldn't delay much longer.<p>

"Well, this has all wrapped up quite nicely, wouldn't you say?"

Norrington didn't have to look to know that it was Sparrow who had come up beside him, but he looked anyway. The pirate was holding a bottle of rum, and looking quite pleased with everything.

"All's well that ends well, as I like to say," Jack continued. He took a drink of rum, then grinned at Norrington. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Norrington kept his expression even and studied the pirate's face. It was said that a person's eyes could reveal their character, in spite of any misleading actions, but when Norrington searched Sparrow's dark eyes, all he found was more incongruity and more mystery. He sighed and gave up. "In light of everything that's happened I hardly know whether I ought to thank you or arrest you," Norrington said. "But I intend to keep my word. You are free to go."

Jack grinned.

"This time."

The grin faded, but only slightly. Jack seemed to consider for a moment, then he shrugged. "So now I suppose we'll go back to hating each other. Nothing wrong with a healthy bit of rivalry to keep us each one at his best."

Norrington glanced at the pirate a moment longer, then turned to leave the ship. Ruby blocked his path.

"You were just going to leave without saying good-bye?" Ruby asked.

Norrington sighed. That had been exactly his intention. "Of course not," he said. He threw a glance at the governor, waiting anxiously, then looked back at Ruby. "Thank you," he told her. "For..." He stopped, trying to think of a way to put an eye-opening experience into words. "Thank you for your help," he finally said.

Ruby nodded, smiling slightly. "You too," she said.

Norrington hesitated, then kissed Ruby quickly on the forehead, gave her a smile, and went to join the governor for what was sure to be a long, exhausting conversation.

Groves stood next to Anamaria at the railing, both watching the commodore trying to graciously receive the enthusiastic welcome that awaited him.

"A week from now we won't be able to believe any of this happened," Groves commented.

"It's probably best to forget," Anamaria said. "We are enemies, after all."

Groves threw her a small smile. "Can't imagine why."

She smiled back, but only for a moment. "You should go."

He nodded, and looked towards the crowd on the shore. For once, he wasn't looking forward to the hero's welcome. He sighed and stepped onto the plank that led to the dock.

"I hope you get your promotion," Anamaria said, behind him.

He turned back, one last time, and looked at her. "And I hope you get your ship."

* * *

><p><strong>The End.<strong>

**That's it, friends! The conclusion! I really enjoyed writing this story, and I hope you enjoyed reading it. My current project is _On Parody's Tides_, and after that, I'll just see where my random ideas take me. Leave one last review and let me know what you thought! :)**


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